Snowy, Blocked Paths
Sometimes it seems snow naturally drifts wherever you precisely don't want it to be.
Have you noticed that? There will be this bare section of ground in the middle of the yard, practically begging to have a nice coating of white snow over it. And then, over by whichever door it is that you use often, of course, there's the snow. Piled up again waiting for you to dig it out.
It's the same with all the pathways too. Instead of the snow blowing over by the tree or anywhere else, it fills in the trenches with a satisfied feeling, knowing that it's making a beautiful unbroken sheet three feet deep, of course for you to admire. Next morning you step out the back door, observe, and howl bloody murder.
Naturally, you can't remain angry to long, (if you really got angry at all) and have to chastise yourself for getting upset about such an unchangeable situation. On especially good days you can even chuckle a little over the whole thing as you gamely reach for the scoop shovel again.
Yes, I know the snow piling in those places has to do with how the wind blows and the objects shapes and all that. Am I sounding like I care and will listen to reasonable explanations for why snow must go in all the most inconvenient places? :-)
Onwards to the point of the post. After a little more description though, sorry.
The past few days, and weeks, have filled in the doorways and trenches many a time now. Consequently, though the doors and trenches have been dug out many times, they are the areas the noticeably fill up again and again, while the surrounding areas just get a little higher and more solid.
Then we had a period of days when everything began to melt, and as a result, I made many deep footprints in the normally stone hard paths to the animal housing. Afterwords it got cold and everything froze again, with soft snow that filled those footprints, making a treacherous pathway of solid footing and deceptive pitfalls a foot deep. It was kind of like a miniature lava flow, only in a snow form.
A couple days ago, I took one look at the mass of snow filling the entire length of my paths, and decided now was a good time to try a different route. Attempts to clear the path always meant
meeting tough resistance in the form of snow, jagged ice and what seemed like invisible rock.
So, I took three paces to the left and easily walked over the drifts, not sinking an inch.
The snow three feet to the left was packed solid, with a hard, unbroken surface that didn't yield, even to some cautionary thumps with my boot-clad feet.
Suffice to say, I was rather thrilled, and even a little pleased with myself.
The point, or at least some point, and one of many different points I'm sure are derivable from the whole story, is that if one route isn't working, maybe you just need to try a different route. Stop digging your own a path out of stubborn ignorance or what-have-you, and go somewhere else. Stop trying to go down and under and try going up and over. More light that way anyway.
You may be headed for the same door you saw before, but maybe you just need to stop working so hard, step back and take a few moments to see if that really is the best way to go still.
After all, that way might have worked well before, but now it's pockmarked and slippery, inadequate for use in this situation. Treacherous even for sure-footed, well-meaning, sometimes over-confident fellows like us. (ahem, speaking from personal experience)
Yeah, God turns the tables on us sometimes.
Stay warm. And be encouraged, there are others trying to walk the right path as well.
Have you noticed that? There will be this bare section of ground in the middle of the yard, practically begging to have a nice coating of white snow over it. And then, over by whichever door it is that you use often, of course, there's the snow. Piled up again waiting for you to dig it out.
It's the same with all the pathways too. Instead of the snow blowing over by the tree or anywhere else, it fills in the trenches with a satisfied feeling, knowing that it's making a beautiful unbroken sheet three feet deep, of course for you to admire. Next morning you step out the back door, observe, and howl bloody murder.
Naturally, you can't remain angry to long, (if you really got angry at all) and have to chastise yourself for getting upset about such an unchangeable situation. On especially good days you can even chuckle a little over the whole thing as you gamely reach for the scoop shovel again.
Yes, I know the snow piling in those places has to do with how the wind blows and the objects shapes and all that. Am I sounding like I care and will listen to reasonable explanations for why snow must go in all the most inconvenient places? :-)
Onwards to the point of the post. After a little more description though, sorry.
The past few days, and weeks, have filled in the doorways and trenches many a time now. Consequently, though the doors and trenches have been dug out many times, they are the areas the noticeably fill up again and again, while the surrounding areas just get a little higher and more solid.
Then we had a period of days when everything began to melt, and as a result, I made many deep footprints in the normally stone hard paths to the animal housing. Afterwords it got cold and everything froze again, with soft snow that filled those footprints, making a treacherous pathway of solid footing and deceptive pitfalls a foot deep. It was kind of like a miniature lava flow, only in a snow form.
A couple days ago, I took one look at the mass of snow filling the entire length of my paths, and decided now was a good time to try a different route. Attempts to clear the path always meant
meeting tough resistance in the form of snow, jagged ice and what seemed like invisible rock.
So, I took three paces to the left and easily walked over the drifts, not sinking an inch.
The snow three feet to the left was packed solid, with a hard, unbroken surface that didn't yield, even to some cautionary thumps with my boot-clad feet.
Suffice to say, I was rather thrilled, and even a little pleased with myself.
The point, or at least some point, and one of many different points I'm sure are derivable from the whole story, is that if one route isn't working, maybe you just need to try a different route. Stop digging your own a path out of stubborn ignorance or what-have-you, and go somewhere else. Stop trying to go down and under and try going up and over. More light that way anyway.
You may be headed for the same door you saw before, but maybe you just need to stop working so hard, step back and take a few moments to see if that really is the best way to go still.
After all, that way might have worked well before, but now it's pockmarked and slippery, inadequate for use in this situation. Treacherous even for sure-footed, well-meaning, sometimes over-confident fellows like us. (ahem, speaking from personal experience)
Yeah, God turns the tables on us sometimes.
Stay warm. And be encouraged, there are others trying to walk the right path as well.
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