Snow Shoveling in PJs

I was not planning to shovel my driveway yesterday morning. It snowed about three or four inches overnight, but this late in the year, you know it's all going to melt within 24 hours or so and it doesn't seem worth the effort.



So when I woke up in the morning, I gazed out the window and enjoyed the wintry scene. Snow is so much more enjoyable when you know you won't have to interact with it and when you know it is going to go away soon.

As I was about to take a shower, I thought I should quickly go out and take a few pictures of the unusual spring snow before it started melting. So I slipped on some shoes and walked out the back door. As I did so, I called to Lizzy to come look at the snow. She stepped out on the back porch, oohed and aahed at all the snow, muttered something about making snowmen, and went back inside while I took my pictures.

After a few minutes, I had taken the pictures I wanted and decided I should finish getting ready and head off to work; I had a big project in the morning and I wanted to arrive early. I walked up the snow covered steps and grabbed the door handle. It was locked.

We have, it appears, trained Lizzy well, and locking the door is about as automatic as shutting it. What we haven't trained Lizzy well in is answering the door. I knew this, but I knocked anyway. Nothing happened. The other problem, you see, was that Christine, who had already been up for a while, had gone back to bed and had put her earplugs in so she could sleep while I was getting ready. I knocked and knocked, but Christine couldn't hear me and Lizzy didn't choose to hear me. And our houseguests were downstairs sleeping soundly. And I was standing on the porch in my pajamas.

No problem, I thought. We installed a remote keypad outside the garage for just such instances. I would walk around the side of the house, activate the garage door opener from the keypad, and get into the house that way. On my way around the house, I took some pictures of the snow covered chain-link fence.


Well, the keypad worked just fine, and I got into the garage. But then I discovered a new problem. The door from the garage to the house was locked from the inside. We never lock that door, but in the last few nights, I have noticed that our houseguests had locked it. This is a good practice. An extra level of defense against intruders. We should probably do that more often. And we should also hide a key somewhere in the garage for when we are stuck outside in the snow in our PJs.

So I tried the front door. Also locked. Knocked. Rang the door bell. Tried to call to Lizzy through the little window in the door. Nothing.



So what do you do when you are locked out of your house on a snowy morning in your pajamas and no one is answering the door? Well, you might decide to be productive. Since you can get into the garage, you do have access to the snow shovel. So you could shovel the driveway. And the sidewalk. And you could try ringing the doorbell again once or twice. And you could take more pictures of cool snow everywhere. And you could wave cheerfully to neighbors who drive by and you could hope they don't notice that you are wearing your pajamas.

After about a half-hour of such activity, I tried the garage door and the front door again. Still no one willing to answer. I was just about to take my snow shovel and go work on the neighbor's driveway when I noticed the front window curtains part, and there stood Lizzy, looking around questioningly (presumably trying to figure out who kept ringing the doorbell). I called to her and ran to the window waving my arms, telling her to open the door, which, gratefully, she did. At long last. Deliverance.

Afterword: While I was shoveling, I heard a cracking sound from the neighbors' yard and realized their flowering plum had collected too much snow and half of it succumbed to the weight of the fluffy white stuff (above).

As I drove around town, I noticed many other trees had suffered a similar fate--most of them were the same type of tree, in full pink-flowered bloom. I assume the problem was that the blossoms provide more surface area and thus more snow-carrying potential than the branches can handle.

But I also noticed an evergreen that had lost a branch. We didn't get *that* much snow--certainly no more than a good winter snowfall. What causes trees to break more easily in the spring?

Afterword, part II:This evening I came home to find that the pristine snow in our back yard had been gleefully trampled by a handful of young children (Lizzy and her cousins).