Eating Elephants

Old man winter has not been particularly kind to those of us living in the upper plains. Our city has received over forty inches of snow so far this season and we have a couple months ahead of us that traditionally treat us to more of the white stuff. We certainly need the moisture and for that we are grateful. Nevertheless, all our snow has to be shoveled, pushed, manipulated, walked on and moved around. Sales of snow blowers, roof rakes and ice melt have been strong. Winter gear is a must as we battle the elements.

One particularly nasty job is doing an archaeological dig for fire hydrants buried under heaps of snow and sludge piled onto them by snow plows clearing the streets. We don't have a hydrant on our property but it is understood that hydrants belong to neighborhoods. In a perfect world, neighbors would see hydrants as a group effort. We would merrily march out to the hydrants, shovels in hand, ready to make quick work of the nasty task. We would slap each other on the backs with congratulatory words when we were finished, knowing our homes were better protected from a potentially devastating event.

In reality, this is not our neighborhood. We have great people living around us but the fire hydrant at the end of our block remained buried for a few weeks. The red pole attached to the hydrant mocked us each day with a guilty reminder of its existence. It seemed to say, "What if there is a fire? What if there is a fire?"

Finally, I could take it no more. I grabbed my trusty little green shovel and started out the door. My husband looked up from his perch and asked me where I was going.

"I am going to eat an elephant?"

"What?"

"I am going to eat an elephant, one scoop at a time. It won't be perfect or pretty but I will figure out a way to get it done."

I marched down the block and started chipping away at the snow and ice sculpture. Crunch, whack, scoop, repeat. Again and again and again. Vehicles were kind enough to give me safe berth as I worked on my Sisyphean task. Soon enough, I heard the roar of our snow blower heading my way. My husband felt sorry for me (and maybe a bit guilty). He used the snow blower to remove the snow as I chipped away at the glacier.

Finally, a peek of yellow appeared through the mess. It was like seeing a flint of gold in a clear stream. Touchdown. Many, many, many snowflakes later, we cleared the hydrant, as well as the required two feet around the hydrant. (I think the city prefers three feet clearance, but, good grief, enough is enough.)

At that moment, I felt like a neighborhood parade should march by, honoring us for our service to the community. Alas, such was not the case. A few crows cawed out as we trudged our way back to our house so I guess that was our marching band for a job well done.

Next on the list is digging out the storm sewer inlet so all this white stuff has a place to go when the melting starts.

Time for a little salt and seasonings. We have another elephant to eat.

Yup. We ate this elephant, too.