Springtime in Wyoming

How do you know when it's Spring in Wyoming?

65 degree temps the day before? Check
Blizzard conditions the day after? Check
60 mph winds? Check
Horizontal, snow, no visibility? Check
No school, no work, no power, no traffic? Check
Any road in and out of the state closed? Check
Snow accumulations over three Corgis in height? Check

Yup, it must be spring.

Let's see, Sunday, pleasantly warm, breezy(really breezy)... Monday, early A.M, cold, blowing, snowing. Nothing like waking up to a foot of snow. Luckily, the school district has a robo caller that let me know schools were closed. Right after that, the power went out. I love sitting in the morning dark listening to the winds howl and snow pile up... On the bright side, no power, no work. Not that I could get out of my driveway anyhow.

Child 2 shoveled the walk during a lull in the storm on Monday. Not that you can tell, much. (View out the front door)

Child 2 went out to shovel the walk on Tuesday, after the storm passed, and did a good job - with appropriate cell phone breaks to whine to friends how mean his mother is, making him do manual labor. (Child 1 is in Arizona in college, laughing at me). Shortly after, Child 2 vanished, leaving me to shovel the driveway on my own. "I'll be back later" he says. I've heard that one before.


So armed with Old Blue, and the Corgis, I set out to tackle the 60 foot driveway.

Circled in red, in the back, my birdfeeder that is 6 feet off the ground, in the front, my birdfeeder that is 3 feet off the ground... now resting on top of the snow. Sorry birdies, hope you pigged out before the storm, I'm not wading out there today.


Of course the Corgis had to make some trails to navigate the yard. (With yellow snow directional markers). Here, Max samples the snow and decides how much to eat.


Merlin, being a good little brother, lets Max break trail through the yard. Once the yard trails were cleared, the Corgis came to stand in the shoveled sections of the driveway, supervise, chase the snow I tossed, and bark.


After an hour I had a donkey trail shoveled out. Not going to get me to work in the morning. I've high centered my car before, not going there again. So trying to blast out is not an option. Oh, and see the nifty sheet of snow hanging off the roof? It fell. Right onto the shoveled out sidewalk. So after I recleared the sidewalk, I went back to the driveway. About four scoops for every shovel width of snow, to get down to pavement. My chain link fence is four feet high, if that gives you any idea.

Heaving shovels of snow up over my head is a workout plan I don't really care for. Oh, and notice the pretty blue skies. Everything close to the pavement was melting... and growing heavier by the minute. Back to the driveway.

3 Hours Later...

Houston, we have driveway! Oh, and the thing under the red arrow? A Monte Carlo. Don't worry, it wasn't going anywhere.

So, does anyone want to predict how long it was before the snowplow came by and buried the end of my driveway after I finished? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

19 minutes.

That's got to be a record, last the radio said, they wouldn't get to plowing out the low priority streets until tomorrow. I didn't even have time to unknot my soggy bootlaces and peel all the skin from my blisters. So back out, with Corgi help (Max ended up with more than one shovelful of snow in the face, not that it stopped him) to unblock the end of my drive and give me a fighting chance of getting out of my street, never mind the subdivision.

That's it, I'm done, and I have a sneaking suspicion I won't be lifting my arms over my head tomorrow. The Wyoming spring workout. Yes, I could get a snowblower, but where's the fun in that? Just in case, I left Old Blue on standby alert. With Child 2's name on the handle.

A Corgi Guide to Cold Weather

Saturday it was a frigid -34 (with the wind chill). Sunday it climbed up to -19, and Monday it warmed right up to -7. My back porch door looked like something out of the movie The Day After Tomorrow, when the ice creeps down the building and frosts everything it touches. I had to point a space heater at the dog door to keep it unthawed enough for use.

The longest either furball stayed out on Saturday was 6 minutes, by Monday they were sitting on the top step of the back porch and basking in the sun, -7 notwithstanding. Of course afterward they would come in the house and want to shove their frozen noses into my hands. I thought about putting the nylon and velcro booties on their feet, but when I pulled the footwear out of the drawer, both dogs mysteriously vanished. Since when are warm feet unfashionable? Apparently, for a Corgi, cracked pads are a risk they are willing to take over the embarassment of sporting red and blue booties. ("All the neighbor dogs will laugh at us!")

Maybe I'll tune in Animal Planet and show them how sled dogs wear their booties with nary a long-suffering look. Or mention how cold, icy feet are really not welcome on my bed.

Like the Corgis are going to believe that.

After a few minutes of tearing about the frozen yard, barking up a storm with the neighbor dogs - 2 schnauzers, a pomeranian, a min pin, two West Highland Terriers, a husky, and two labs, one black one gold (Yes, we like dogs in this neighborhood, that's five yards, 11 dogs...) Max and Merlin decided they had worked enough and it was down time.

Here is Max in Corgi Power Nap Mode™.

Going...

Going...

Gone



















And Merlin? Wallowing in toys and chewies.

"Mine, all mine I tell you! All the hedgies belong to me!"

*Insert world-dominating cackle*




















... "uh, at least until Max wakes up..."


.

If Orc Wishes Were Horses...

They'd probably be some hideous shade of viridian.
And come with chartreuse sidesaddles.


Stay tuned for more ways to abuse the green side of your watercolor palette ...
(As soon as the lawn crisps up to its usual khaki, I'll find another color to paint with. Honest.)

The Season Between

You know, the season between summer and fall. Or Spring and summer. Or winter and spring and summer and fall. Construction season. Heaven forbid we upset the tourists by working on the road in the summer, no, let's disrupt the lives of the locals by digging up main arteries and the side streets they'd normally use to get around. At the same time, so everyone is forced onto one narrow road at five o'clock. Just you and 5000 of your closest competitors jockeying for 8 feet of road. Welcome to the land of rocket scientists.

Then there is the 16 miles of barrels dividing the Interstate. They've been there for months, curiously there is no sign of the evasive state highway maintenance worker. Rarer than an Ivory-billed Woodpecker in these parts. Did you know driving through 16 miles of narrow construction barrels at ten at night is the next best thing to sleeping pills? Orange, black, orange, black, orange... The only antidote seemed to be Fun With Highbeams, much to the annoyance of the OtherLaners. But the black, unlined pavement is so very pretty and devoid of roadkill. So far.

Hey, just for fun, let's construct two new buildings and an apartment complex across the road from each other. Then the locals can play dodge'em front end loader, and rock'em, sock'em forklift. Did you know the speed of a loose Tyvek construction wrapper is only slightly less than the air-speed velocity of an unladen swallow? (European, before you ask)

This whine has been brought to you by the elusive fifth season. Construction. We now return you to the regularily scheduled disruptions in YOUR life.

But first, a poem.



Prep Work
by Constance Brewer


Back and forth
.........back and forth
the CAT
spins over
and over and
over again.
........Back and forth
sloshing water—
a satiated farm animal,
pounding club
feet into rich soil
with lumbering
force. Back
and forth
crushing silt
and clay until
I hear bleating
under the dirt.
The sheepsfoot
roller rolls—
back and forth
.........back
and forth
.........back and
back
.........and forth.