The "Shnow Snovel"

.....my little snow shovel story.

Some garden tools are seasonal.  I use the hoe in summer, the rake in the fall, and the snow shovel in winter.  After the season ends, each are hung in the shed to "hang out" and rest.

When the temperature outside is really cold and my teeth are chattering, I can't even say the words snow shovel correctly.  It comes out "shnow snovel" every time. When it is really cold outside, I keep the snovel in the house where the handle can stay warm.  I just do not like to grab a cold "snovel."  (or a cold man) I like a warm one.  I also like warm hugs and kisses but I can't talk about that right now.  I'm trying to write......
  
However, I have never gone to the extremes of wrapping a neck scarf around my snovel or put a hat on top to keep it warm.  Perhaps I should be more considerate of my "snovel" beginning today.

I prefer the metal scooped shovel over plastic any day.  I feel like I'm working harder if
I use a metal tool that makes scraping noises.  No need for ergonomic designs, or rubber grips, just give me the stick with a scoop at the bottom.

The art of snoveling is quite intricate.  Is it better to push long strips of snow or short ones?
Does one throw the snow over the shoulder for good luck?
 

                                         Do you count how many times you lift and throw?
                                         Are you a left handed shoveler or right?

                                                   Someone just took a break.........me!

                                Do you swear you are going to buy a snow blower next year?
                                Do you swear in other ways?  (I do)


            How many times do you fall down and break your crown?  What is a crown anyway?
            See what I mean?  There are so many unanswered questions in order to just move a few bazillion snowflakes.

And why are such tiny snowflakes so darn heavy?  I just do not know the answers.

Go ahead and rest, I'm sure you are exhausted now.  Enjoy this poem while you rest.  It explains a few things we just discussed (hint: crown).

Jack and Jill went up the hill

To fetch a pail of water. (Or snow.)

Jack fell down and broke his crown, ( A crown is your head!)

And Jill came tumbling after.  (Naughty Jill pushed Jack.)

Up Jack got, and home did trot,

As fast as he could caper;

To old Dame Dob, who patched his nob  (Who is this chick?)

With vinegar and brown paper.

When Jill came in how she did grin

To see Jack's paper plaster;

Mother vexed did whip her next

For causing Jack's disaster.

Let it snow!