Con’td from Snow chore brings father closer to a son -2
Nick has completed a fourth of the shoveling that remained to be done by the time I go back outdoors. I’m refreshed following the digging out from our snowed-in house here on the East Coast of the USA Wednesday. I now can walk the full length of the brick path. Just have to step onto 24-inch snow drifts another 20 to 25 feet to get to the door of the chicken coop and clear away the ground where the door will swing open. Don’t want to spill any of this chicken food I prepared inside our home. Afraid if I put it down, I’ll knock it over by stepping on it or swinging the door into it.
Slowly, I “brush” aside the snow, remove the long metal part bracing the door, then unlatch it. I see very little because of the darkness inside. It’s after 6 p.m. now. We started shoveling when it was still light out, but lost the light as the minutes dropped off with each shovelful of snow.
Snow was so heavy in some places, that one of “durable” plastic shovels broke right off the handle. Will use the plastic as a heavy-duty dust pan come the next several seasons. I’ll use the wooden handle as a stake.
I walk inside the shed we converted into a chicken coop. All four of the fowl huddle together on a four-foot high cage below the electric heater. I barely make out the rooster before hearing some clucking.
I can feed them, and not worry about digging the rest of the pathway, I begin to think. Nick will complete the rest of the task. And, I have enough confidence in him, that I know he’ll do a good job, and not cut corners.
After finishing feeding the birds and the “Cwazy Rabbit,” Nick and I look over our handy work, the snow removal. The falling snow has covered much of what we had just exposed. An hour or two later, we’ll look out the dining room window and see two more inches have fallen, covering the pathway we just dug.
Stuck inside the house while Winter howls outside, we watched two movies together. Looked at pictures taken of Nick when he played in the worst snow storm of the century, the “Winter of ’96,” (that was the ‘Twentieth Century,’ remember 1996?) and I can’t help but feel grateful that it has taken an act of Mother Nature to bring my son and I so closer together. As family. As friends. As loved ones.