Darren du NordTo shovel, or not to shovel — that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the back to suffer
The slips and tumbles of outrageous winter,
Or to take arms against a driveway of snow
And by shoveling, clear it. To wait — to melt,
No more; and by a melt to say we end
The aching lumbar and the thousand frozen shocks
That driveways are heir to: 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To wait, to melt;
To melt, perchance by Tuesday — ay, there's the rub:
For in that wait, what neighbors might then come
When we have shuffled past in our pajamas,
Must give us pause. There's the embarrassment
That makes a spectacle of so long a driveway.
For who would bear the scrape and grunt of toil,
The frozen shovel, the numb and mittened hands,
The pangs of a pulled muscle, the cold's delay,
The insolence of a second storm on Thursday,
And the sneers of the neighbor who snowblows in minutes,
When he himself might simply wait it out
With a warm cup of coffee? Who would labor,
To huff and puff beneath a leaden sky,
But that the dread of something — say, the mailman,
Or a mother-in-law who visits unannounced —
Puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear the snow we have
Than explain to others why we didn't shovel?
Thus laziness doth make philosophers of us all,
And thus the noble urge to go outside
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of forecast,
And the Weather app, of great import and promise,
With this regard doth send us back to bed
And lose the name of action.
#ndwx #fargond #NorthDakota #Snow #snowstorm #fargomoorhead #mnwx
