Winter on the urban farm

I shoveled. Yesterday and today, I shoveled. 

There hasn't been this much snow outside since I lived in that small town in the tip of urban Appalachia. I think I must have been about 9 years old. I liked being in the snow then. I played in the snow then. Today, I shoveled out of necessity.

It was quiet and there were birds chirping and the squirrels were making this clicking noise. I was thinking about the peace I could have out in the snowy quiet. But as I pulled out the snow blower, I mumbled a few curse words that my brother says no God-fearing person should say.

I thought about how the snow used to get shoveled with my ex husband who hated shoveling more than I did, but it is so much easier to move the snow now.  I thought about my father and how he wired up the house so the snow wouldn't sit on the roof of the house as I reached my shovel up to the garage roof and moved the snow that was hanging there.

I was thinking about being woman and embodying my dream of self-reliance on my own piece of property. It's okay to ask for help, but for this . . . Nah. That just wouldn't be hip.

I shoveled. I blew the snow in the alley into piles between the garages. I was thinking how cool it would be if everyone shoveled their part of the alley, so no one would get stuck in the snow as I have so many times before.

I didn't even bother to move the car today even though I  thought about it.  I thought about going out and then decided to wait.  I've been outside on the farm more in the last two days than I have most of the spring and summer. And I thought about what it might be like to start a seed or two or four in a greenhouse on the farm. I smiled to myself. . . That would be a hip urban farm thing to do.