Adventures With Ma in the Cold, Cold Yard of Death

Another night, another snowstorm in America's heartland.

Ma went to her computer and after careful triangulatory calculations involving area snow totals and the higher echelons of math, our incredibly brainy matron came to the conclusion that between 7 and 7.5 inches had "fallen" overnight.

Slightly more than the projected 2-5.

Taking into consideration the winds, some of the snow undoubtedly blew in from South Dakota.

Donning enormous amounts of snow gear, Ma and her son prepare to experience the harsh Iowan elements...
...the symbolic shadows of the the porch railing proclaim that they are veritable prisoners...

Ah, the drive directly in front of the garage...
...the garage with not one, not two, but three bay door areas that will need clearing.

Our orange jumpsuit clad Ma proceeds around the back of the garage...
The land would seem a sea of snow, with cruel but beautiful waves rolling on and on, to the horizon.

She makes her perilous way to the front yard, and then the road, looking back down the driveway...
...but....but...where IS the driveway?

With her trusty, wooden assistant in hand, our brave reporter-of-nature's-wrath inserts the yardstick-of-measure...
...hmmm, 27 inches. It is not a pretty sight.

*shudders*

Even the blue-van-of-oldness seems to mock her, with it's crafty, cat-like eyes.


Her double-gloved fingers hurting so much that she begins to feel nauseous, our Ma-of-stupidity-who-has-stayed-out-too-long takes one more picture of the snowed-in drive...
...given time and warmer temperatures, she knows it could be cleared by Ma and kid-power.

However, given the harsh temperatures predicted for three days, our humble Ma comes to the conclusion that she may indeed have to swallow her pride and ask one of the nice farmers for help...

And that's all,

of Adventures With Ma

in the Cold, Cold Yard of Death
 

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