What a year it has been. A few highlights for those keeping score.

I lost a chunk of finger to a wood splitter
My wife fought through a bout with the COVID
Got rear ended by a distracted driver which resulted in a punch to the face by an airbag and a totaled car
Scrambled to find a “new” car during a pandemic when new cars cost an arm and leg and used cars are non-existent. I had already lost a chunk of finger, so I was not going to give an arm and/or leg for a new vehicle
Had to scrap building the house we’ve been planning for 3+ years due to skyrocketing building costs, and, after I began the demo on existing cottage which was to be torn down

There may be more highlights buried in the back room of my brain, but the clown standing guard at the door scares me and I’m not ready to confront him to get in there to retrieve those memories.

Now let’s focus on the present. The other day I decided I should shovel the snow off the roof of our small cabin. The cabin sits on a mountain / large hill depending on your reference point. It is only accessible by foot with the help of snowshoes this time of year. It’s a job I have been putting off because the hike up will beat you down. The thought of having to shovel snow off the roof after the climb, was something I was not in the right frame of mind to deal with lately.

The weather forecast was calling for mild temperatures and snow flurries. Which loosely translated means, stuff will be falling from the sky that weighs as much as a small animal and will crush any structure it is allowed to accumulate on. So, I grabbed a bagel, a couple apples, some water, an extra jacket, and spare gloves. I suited up and started the climb.

As I started the climb the weather was calm. No wind. No snow. It was quiet and peaceful. Enjoyable, one might say. As I got closer to the cabin the wind picked up. The snow was blinding. The weight of the wet snow gathering on the tops of my snowshoes was adding an extra five to ten pounds to my feet. Each step was becoming increasingly more difficult. I stopped several times to tuck my heart back into my chest and grab a ball of fresh snow to wet my drying mouth.

After reaching the cabin, I changed into may spare jacket and gloves and began to shovel snow from the deck. The weather became calm. I figured this was my chance to get on the roof and remove the snow before Mother Nature changed her mind.

I grabbed the ladder from under the cabin and proper it up against the side of the cabin. I then launched the shovel up onto the roof and climbed up. The snow thigh deep making walking around a bit of a challenge.

As I began launching shovels of snow from the roof, Mother Nature decided it was “Let’s Fuck With John Hour.” The wind picked up. The snow was now blowing and more in the from of ice pellets. My glasses quickly became covered hindering my ability to see. I kept shoveling hoping for another calm.

After removing the snow from half the roof, it became calm again. I pulled a paper towel from my pocket, cleaned my glasses and finished removing the rest of the snow.

I put the shovel and ladder away, beat my hat against a beam to remove the ice build up then went inside the cabin. I began to eat the bagel I had brought while pulling chunks of ice from my beard. It was quiet and peaceful.

As I sat there looking out the window I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude. I thought about the people who came before us. Those who lived in one room, drafty cabins and faced what I faced everyday. For me it was one day. For them it was everyday,

I thought about what our 88 year neighbor / friend told us this past summer as we were walking around in the woods. “When we were young we never enjoyed nature. We were too busy surviving to pay much attention to its beauty.”

And that is perspective.

Doing Hard Things = Perspective