“The winter season gives you extra special tasks to do, like shovelling the snow almost every single day. Fun, am I right? Not! she replied, quickly enough” Gun Roswell 

Working hard? Hardly!

The shovel at the door, simply waiting for me to finish the chore, the thing happening in winter,, the one with the snow, which after a while becomes quite the bore as it seems a never ending lore, the falling of snow flakes onto each and every surface, which seemed like a welcome change, for a day or so. But, as the same old continued all day long, all days long as it were, the beauty of it all soon faded and the eternal struggle with the snow shovel, soon turned to some kind of hatred, for the white powdery stuff, the winter seemingly too long and rough, especially with constant grinding of minus degrees of frozen solid, to rain and sleet and all that shit. So, in the end or not nearly the end of this season, it all had become enough, as the piles growing ever higher had no space to be, as you see, small yards make easy maintenance, but not during the winter’s mighty entrance, almost as an eternal pest that one is and makes one wish for a warmer climate to stay in. And so, with that in mind one snowy day, the shovel was left where it was left to lay. And the snow? Well, it would be spring time eventually, right? But hey! It’s already summer!