A colleague (a Southerner) was kind enough to pen a little ditty for us Yankees to help us through the storm. I offer a paltry reply from a brain too tired from watching the beautiful snowflakes back:
Our southern colleagues, they did ponder:
How do them Yankees get around up yonder?
I can tell you’ll want to know,
It all depends on the depth of the snow.
(First, below an inch – that’s a cinch:
it’s too small an amount
to bother about; that doesn’t even count.)
Three to four,
now that is more
noticeable outside the door.
Five or six inches seen when on the roam –
that’s when people start getting back to their homes.
Six to twelve is fine for today –
working at home with our kids in the way.
But tomorrow our backs will swell
after shoveling it all up the hill.
Into the feet is where *this* storm’s headed,
and that’s where the less intrepid start to dread it.
At this level there are neighborly teenagers galore,
Who for a fee, will shovel up to your door!
This weekend’s to win some sledding prizes
Until next week, as it melts when the temperature rises.
But the most important moral of my story:
In our winter, snow tires are mandatory.