Shoveling

My first recollection of this chore was in the home of my parents Carl and Sybil Miner Beck. There was a large, smoke-belching behemoth in the basement that needed to be fed at regular intervals to provide heat in the cold weather. That furnace had octopus pipe arms that directed heat to the rooms above. It was several steps from the coal bin and I had to take care and not spill any of the black chunks or I would have to sweep them up.

With another memory I had to use of a pick axe as well. The galvanized pipe that ran from the fresh water spring to our home had slowly corroded shut. The shoveling task was to dig a trench for the new plastic pipe from the spring to our house, all five hundred yards. Most of the distance was in the woods where rocks and roots were obstacles. My dad assigned so many feet to be dug for my younger brother Ken and me. Problems arose when Ken would upset me, I’d threaten him, and he’d run to the house leaving the digging to me. You’d think I would have figured this out, but little brothers can be so aggravating.

One evening Dad came home and we’d not opened the assigned length of trench. I tried to explain that there was a huge rock in the way. He’d remedy that and went to the basement for his sledge hammer. He found the obstructing rock was about six feet by ten feet and nearly three foot thick. After a number of attempts, dad gave up and we eased the pipe through a tunnel we’d dug beneath.

My least pleasurable event that involved shoveling occurred several years ago. The septic tank for the sewer system was full and needed pumped out. It was necessary for me to dig down to the tank’s cap to allow the “honey dipper” to do his job. I thought I knew where it was and dug down only to find I was almost three feet away from it. I’d placed the dirt from the first hole exactly over the spot that I needed to  open. I had to remove that dirt before digging down to the opening. I popped one of my bicep tendons during the excavation process.

I know it sounds odd, but I’ve always enjoyed shoveling snow. I have a snow blower, but there are times when I like the quietness of the chore. With snow falling all around I have a feeling of solitude and peace.  I’m getting older and the snow has to be a bit lighter before I have that feeling now, but it’s still there.