Snow for Breakfast

The possums are hibernating and now a very pointy faced young raccoon has shown up. Shaka gets out of its way. It has a face like a wedge of cheese.

Sometimes I hear the raccoon talking at night outside and it sounds loony tunes, ancient, like it is uttering incantations in some old scary language.

I hope to stay on its good side.


I have been out shoveling snow. I love shoveling snow.
I was sad when I ran out of snow.

Of course there is real time and there is blog time and I am writing this from January 26th even though I may not get to post it until February.

Why do I so love shoveling snow? I don’t know-but I do.
It seems to work the right parts of my body and mind. All those muscles coordinating.

When I shovel snow I am also in Vermont and Colorado and Washington and all the other places I have shoveled snow. My mind goes back to shoveling, to places I have shoveled.

I love throwing snowballs for the dog.
Love the chatter of the blue jay above me.

I love eating the snow.

Snow for breakfast!

Do you know the Billy Collins poem, “Shoveling Snow with Buddha”? (Do you want to go now and read it, here while you are online? I think you will enjoy it.)


All this snow has inspired me to write a small poem:

I have shoveled the driveway,
If you want to come home.

I have shoveled the road too.