Friday, January 14, 2011


Okay. More snow. And more shoveling. But I thought I was such a good girl, shoveling all that snow and what do I get as a reward? Pummeled by balls of snow and ice from the heavens . . . wait. . . or was it the squirrel in our maple tree that was pummeling me?

1 comment:

  1. or the wind blowing back across the arms of all the trees that shaded and protected our home. the snow would pile up and be precarious in its stance, as a high wire act sans net. of course, the slightest blow would overturn the fine tune of design and purpose, only to collapse in a heap to become another.