If my dad could see what I did in my snow-covered driveway, he would roll over in his grave.

Dad worked for the township when he was a young man, plowing snow. It was a steady job for almost half the year in our mountain town. We were in the path of lake-effect snow off of Lake Erie. As everything in his life, he prided himself on a job well done.

We never had snow days from school when we were growing up. I’m not trying to be critical (for me it’s effortless) but the plow operators here could learn from him.

Later in life, Dad purchased his own plow and serviced the entire community free of charge. Everyone in Rew had a tidy, well-plowed driveway. I confess, I lost my patience with shoveling after finding the hen house and wood pile. I ran the four-wheel drive truck in and out forming, regrettably, large ruts which promptly thawed and froze solid. Now I have to get into the proper tract just like at the car wash.

The frozen walkways of lumpy slush are downright treacherous. People, please, take care!

My favorite garden report is from my attached greenhouse. On Sunday it was sunny and the temperature climbed to a balmy 80 degrees. Violet and I planted all the onion and leek seeds as well as some cold hardy herbs. The propagating mats are set on 60 degrees, so the freezing nights should not hinder the germination.

Once they germinate, they can come off the mat and survive the extreme temperature changes. I’ve had flats completely frozen in the mornings and live to produce fine crops in the spring.

This is only true of hardy seeds, of course.

I wish I had happy news about my hoop house located in the middle of my big vegetable garden. The kale, collards and black-seeded Simpson lettuce are performing admirably. I can only gaze longingly at them through the plastic. Both doors are frozen shut with six-foot drifts.

There is a lot of acceptance necessary at this time of year concerning the weather. Do not forget Will Roger’s comment about the weather, “Everyone’s talking about it . . . no one’s doing anything about it!”

I hauled out the snowshoes, it is a good way to navigate the high drifts — otherwise every step puts a person hip deep in the white stuff.

Back to Dad, briefly . . . he made snowshoes from bent wood and leather strips. There is still a pair hanging on the wall at his hunting camp.

I’m pretty smug and self-satisfied. These long stay-at-home days have enabled me to use food from the freezer. The fruits of last summer’s garden are super enjoyable with the wind howling outside.

I’ll do anything to avoid chaining myself to my desk in order to organize my taxes. I’ve resorted to organizing bookshelves and an occasional game of solitaire in these long days at home.

If it lasts much longer I’m going to have no more excuses.

The chickens are either terrified of snow or blinded by it. I spread some wood ashes and hay around their pen. They will only walk where they can see footing. A few wandered out into the snow and became paralyzed. I had to pluck them up to rescue them before nightfall. Violet keeps saying, “Mame, think how big their brains are!”

We got our first television in 1952 when I was eight years old. It was the year I got measles twice. We called them the three-day and nine-day. My mom put my little brother and I into a darkened room and forbid us TV watching. It’s my only memory of the measles. It’s amazing to see it become so politicized. A couple of our esteemed congressmen went on about a parent’s choice to vaccinate their children. They seem very concerned about the so-called Democratic “nanny state” and the government getting involved in a person’s health decisions.

Wouldn’t it be great if they afforded women the same rights with their reproductive health issues?

I do find the controversy odd in that the extreme righties and lefties seem in agreement for once. Life is strange.