Shoveling was much a part of my growing up. There was shoveling grain, dirt and snow. Ear corn was particularly a challenge. For some time I worked for a farmer who had a custom corn shelling business so that led to much shoveling. All married life, until we moved into a downtown high rise, there was snow to shovel at the houses we occupied.
So, why all this remembrance of shoveling? At The Little House parking is beside the street on a patch of gravel. This summer the county seal coated the highway which is also the main street of town. They pour hot oil on the road that is immediately covered with gravel. That makes a good wear surface for the road. That process left a pile of surplus gravel in town. With the permission of the the town maintenance man, Jim, I used my loader to take a bucketful for my parking area. Of course the loader left it in a pile so shoveling gravel became a thing. The technique of shoveling is imprinted but the condition of the muscles is another issue. A mantra now applies; 'It's better than a gym membership!'
Takk for alt,
Al
One of the twenty five nesting boxes referenced in a previous blog with Kaia posing behind. This was painted by a granddaughter.
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