The Big Dig

One of the great past-times of mid-Atlantic living is overstating the amount of snow 1) anticipated in any predicted storm and 2) covering the ground wherever one lives in the region. Maybe its a sense of inferiority to our New England brethren, who knows.

But the storm that hit yesterday and Friday lived up to every bit of its hype. We here in in little Easton on the Eastern Shore of Maryland got--no joke--somewhere around 18 inches of snow. Just up the road in Baldymore they got nearly 30! There are some righteous drifts out here on the farm that are going to make superb snow forts.

To paraphrase Robert Frost--snowplows make good neighbors--and one of ours came up big in this storm. He plowed the entire farm lane and our circular drive. Digging cars out today was tough, but made much more pleasant by the knowledge that once liberated, the ride out the the main road would be a smooth one.

A near catastrophe was averted a bit earlier by surface heating; our Direct TV antenna had gotten encased in snow and ice, and there was little hope for Super Bowl viewing (I checked this morning and there was no reception). So I grabbed a ladder, determined to climb out on the garage roof and solve this problem--when to my pleasant surprise, the antenna stood there, defiantly naked without any snow or ice. A quick trip back in the house confirmed my good fortune, and we're on for our little annual Super Bowl party.

In a house full of women, none of whom are particularly rabid football fans, our annual family Super Bowl viewing experience has been supplemented by periodic and lengthy excursions to Animal Planet to watch The Puppy Bowl--a bunch of romping shelter puppies playing atop a football field-like table, with lots of football talk and this year--rabbit cheerleaders! Harry Kalas used to do the play by play, and his death will leave a big hole in the Puppy Bowl broadcast.