The snow keeps piling up. A new storm every three days it seems. And none of these wimpy "dustings." Three inches, four inches, ten inches, a foot. Serious snow.
When I was a kid on the farm, such fun we had during the snowy days of winter--skiing, sleding. And the not so fun part. Shoveling paths to the pump house, to the chicken house, to the granary, to the barn, to the straw stack, and how could I forget, to the outhouse that on these winter days was as cold as an ice house.
The Old Timer Says: "These snowy days are great days for reading a book."