We're told there's yet another storm headed our way. Usually by this point in the season New Englanders would have become blasé about snowfall, but this hasn't been anything like a normal winter, and the constant succession of blizzards seems to have keyed us all up to the point where news of the latest prospective snow has sent everyone into a frenzy of frantic preparation. Me, it sent up onto the roof of the porch.
Actually, as it happens the frenzy is far from being entirely due to psychological reasons. There's an awful lot of snow around here already, and no one is really sure where we're going to put the next load; or, as it happens, if our roofs will be able to handle it. Breathlessness, then, comes both from excitement (or fear, depending on temperament) and from all the work we had to do to clear some room for the next few days of snow removal.
Actually, the caption to that picture doesn't even go far enough: in fact I had to move some of that snow three times. First I chucked it off the roof, then I cleared it from the steps; then this evening I spent some time rearranging the piles and pushed it off the top of one of them. I was so proud of the elegant way I prepared my heaps of snow to be added to that I wanted to take a picture of that too, but it was after dark. Oh well, it'll only get more impressive tomorrow.