Song of the Snowblower

Winter showed up yesterday. Real, snowy, icy, cold-to-the-bones winter. It snowed from 9 am straight on until 5, and then it only changed to freezing rain, giving the snow an ice crust and turning any prematurely plowed roads into skating rinks. It turns out that my street, a humble, one-block lane, and its cross street are not high on the city's priority plow list. Plus, while I knew that my car's tires were shamefully balding, I've been putting off replacing them. Sure enough this morning, within a span of less than a quarter mile I managed to get stuck to the point of needing a push four times. Thank goodness Midwesterners are a friendly, generous bunch and that there is an abundance of 20-something guys living around here, many of whom happened to be out walking around at 10:30 this morning. Suffice to say, once I made it to the nearest plowed street, I parked my car and left it.

I happened to be wandering in the Arboretum when the snow started and managed to snap a couple photos. My fingers were fumbly from the cold and anxious to get back into mittens, so I just let auto mode do its thing.