To Ease the Passing of Time

George’s epic battle against the snow starts long before the first snow flake hits the ground.  As early as August, he takes his snow blower out of the garage. He circles a few times around it like a cat.  He then proceeds to remove a few parts to clean and lubricate them thoroughly. He does the same in September. In October and early November, he starts his snow blower a few times to make sure it’s running smoothly.  He has plenty of oil and gas to last the whole winter. Before the snow comes, George is ready.

When the snow comes, normally at the end of November or early December, George and his snow blower are out early. I can hear the sound from inside my house, in the comfortable warmth of my bed. It’s a sure sign that Old Man Winter is here. After cleaning his driveway, George takes out his scraper to remove the snow from his walkway.  When he’s finished, you can see the asphalt again. But it’s not over yet. Before going back into his house, George often helps a few neighbours to clean up their driveways.  George is a very helpful man. He’s always there to help you in all kinds of ways. When we travel, he’s the one who takes care of our cats.

Last winter, George convinced me to buy a snow blower. I bought an electric one. We paid almost two thousand bucks for it. I used it a few times, but I must say I’m not too crazy about snow blowers. You have to take the car out of the garage before taking the frigging thing out in the driveway. And before you start using it, you have to make sure the four batteries are fully charged, and that you did not forget to put them into the machine. And if you forget to adjust the position of the chute, you get the snow right into your face or it lands in the neighbour's driveway. And while you’re blowing the snow, you damn well know that George is watching you from one of his upstairs windows laughing at how clumsy you are with your electric snow blower.

I must say that I have a completely different relationship with the snow. When it starts falling, I get all excited because I know I’ll be able to ski. And when it’s on the ground, I look at it closely to see how wet or dry it is in order to pick the proper wax. I’ve read somewhere that the Norwegian language has about ten different words for snow. Picking the right wax can be challenging, especially when the temperature is around the freezing point. It often makes the difference between good or bad skiing.

Before he quit smoking a few years, George always had a cigarette in his mouth when he was blowing the snow. Now, it’s only him and his snow blower. I don’t know if he enjoys cleaning the snow with his snow blower, but it looks like it. I have to ask him. One thing I am sure of is that in this epic battle between George and the snow, as long as Good Old George is alive and kicking, the snow is never going to win.