It makes me smile - the sound of that snow thrower blower thingy running out there. It is seven below zero. The real feel is seventeen below. I can't help it. I just have to go look.
The first time we lived in North Dakota, neighbor Smitty, advised us that we could not survive a winter without one. We bought it across the border in Montana because there's no sale tax there. Then the first snow came in October before we were ready (as if anyone is ever ready) while the magic machine was still in it's box under a blue tarp. That first dreaded snow was measured in feet, not inches. Three of them.
Before we could uncrate it, south Louisiana called. Warm winter called. Palm Trees called. And we loaded the big box in the back of the truck, hooked up the trailer and headed south with a brief stop at the home improvement store to return our precious unused merchandise
Less than a year later, Louisiana ended with Mardi Gras, and North Dakota called again. In a new town, new neighbor Bruce offered a broken snow thrower blower thingy to my handyman. Handy man had it running before another snowflake could fall.
So there's my handyman out there, clearing the snow from around the house so that the basement will stay dry during spring thaw next June. He is cleaning neighbor Clarice's drive and sidewalk, blowing Gloria and Joe's walks, and making a path for the snowbunnies who cut the mustard across our yard on their way home from school.
He starts on the northside neighbor's walk, but the mama sends the boys out with shovels to help before he is finished. He is cleaning up the neighborhood, one snowflake at a time. It must be that North Dakota Nice thing where everybody really does watch out for their neighbor. Maybe he just really likes his machine. Maybe both.
There's this crazy thing my crazy handy man likes to say:
"If the women don't find you handsome - they had better find you handy."
"...and love your neighbor as yourself."
because Jesus said it.
