Where a Mind Wanders While Shoveling Snow

It snowed 3 inches last night. Since it is the weekend I put off going out to shovel the driveway until late in the day.  It is usually a mind-numbing task, as well as body-numbing.  While some might listen to music while they work, I look forward to the quiet.  Today I was conscious to where my thoughts went.
How cold is it outside? Will I freeze, or start to sweat? Where is the snow shovel? Which shovel do I use.... what kind of snow is this?
I see the neighbors yard has been plowed, and another neighbor is using a snow blower.  They joke that they are too old to shovel.  The truth is: we are too cheap to pay for the job. I am expecting Jon to come out at any moment and take over.  The way I shovel bothers him, I do it all wrong.  I suppose he has years of experience, where as I am a newbie at this.

It does feel as if I have only just put the snow shovels away after last winter.  I fondly remember having my boys help then.  They were visiting for the holidays and gladly took on the task.  Now I start to look forward to seeing them again at Thanksgiving.  I will have to get the car out and go into town to buy a turkey.  What else do I need to get?  I suppose I will need to think about decorating for Christmas.
My mind wanders to my teaching and I smile at the memory of the children, all bundled up so as to be nearly unrecognizable, and excited about the weekend and snow coming.  I love to see their glowing faces.

I start to compare the snow I'm pushing around to the snow in Bulgaria.  There it was wetter, more decorative. I would have to find another excuse to go out and get my fill of snow-watching, I had no shoveling to do in the city.
My son grew tired of the snow in the Midwest and now lives in California. I wonder if he is missing the snow, or us, at all.
I find a hose pipe hidden under the snow while clearing the front walk.  Oh, wasn't it only a few days ago I was watering my begonias? I'm not really ready for winter. There are still apples to be picked and chairs to put away.  And Jon is always pointing out how I'm not very good at coiling up garden hoses. I resist the urge to hide the hose under the snow, and push it behind some shrubbery. What should I do with the pumpkins decorating my front steps?
As I finish it begins to snow.  I pause to take it in: the whiteness, the quiet, the fresh look, the calm.  I marvel at natures way of decorating a cold dead world.  I go inside without caring how good a job I've done; Jon will want to redo it all anyway.