I returned home safely and remained in my bedroom, taking no further pictures of Nemo's approach. As per numerous status updates I made pertaining to the fine products of Chef Boyardee, I did eat one can of beef ravioli around 3 PM. The beef filling had a smooth, cat food-like consistency. The sauce was of a dark, red-brown color, and there was too much of it. The texture of the pasta was soft. I experienced some digestive discomfiture around 4 PM. Hours passed. I passed out around midnight and rose the next morning around 9 AM. I looked out my bedroom window. Nemo had indeed delivered.
I finished my shoveling duties—I shovel two properties—and ate lunch: three slices of buttered toast and two eggs. Before shoveling, I'd prepared two slices of buttered toast, but I dropped one on the floor because I was fumbling with my mittens. After lunch I went back outside to chat with the throng of neighbors. I was quick enough with my little Cannon Power Shot to catch a huge quantity of snow falling off my roof and onto my driveway which, alas, had already been plowed.
New England is never more charming than it is on a sunny morning after a substantial blizzard. I love our colorful paint job culture. Look at those houses! A walk around the neighborhood was definitely in order.
Somebody obviously aimed the old snowblower at this house. Speaking of snowblowers, where did they all come from? On the morning after the storm, there were at least three on every street, all of them shooting arcs of Nemo. I imagine that snowblowers are like babies around here: someone brings a nice one to the party, and it gets passed around from person to person. Nemo definitely created a kind of party atmosphere on the streets.
The house (below) got painted last summer. I don't know who paid for the work, but I would like to thank that person for finding room in their budget to make it happen. Dear Mr. and Mrs. Lilac & Yellow, you did a great job. Thank you.
And finally a view from the trenches. According to the official report, 24 inches of snow fell on Northampton. To clear that much snow from a sidewalk—sans snowblower—one had to work in tiers. A quick perusal on the internet for local photographs of shoveling efforts did not produce one picture that spoke adequately about shoveling technique or snow depth. Hot inside my multiple layers and long underwear, I laid down in the trench I'd cleared to cool off and catch my breath. Nemo made me very happy.