Last Summer Revisted

It was not without some crying that I got Michael into the back yard with the snow shovels. He couldn’t see that there would be anything better than shoveling the neighbour’s walks. I wanted to get to his back porch so that I could make a clear path between his house and mine when I want to run over there.

... a sure recipe for getting snow up his sleeve ...

When I got the tears stopped for making him move in a direction he didn't want to go, I tried to interest him in sliding his hand along the top of the railing and having the snow fall off.

There was a six inch high rim of snow sitting there, undisturbed from the last snow storm.

He found last summer's lawn chairs – small ones that children could sit in. They were neatly packaged and ready for storage, but now snowed into a corner of the porch. Then I lost track of him until I heard him calling my name.

... when sitting down he missed the seat
which is just in front of him ...
a valiant  try gone wrong

He had found his low-to-the-ground cross between a scooter and a bike. There he was, sitting in the snow as though he were on the bike and he was calling to me to help him move it.

As a young mother, there is no way that I would have let that thing go in the house. But as a grandmother? Why not see if entry would be allowed!

How can I get this to go, given I can't even find the pedals?

We brought the bike on the porch, swept the snow off of the wheels, the handle bars and the steering mechanism.  Then we waited at the door for Miranda, whom we hoped would give us permission to let it come in.

She put out a big blanket on the floor of the kitchen for it to dry on and our adventure in the back yard was complete.

A summer toy rescued in tandem with a backyard path cleared.

Arta