Western Pa has definitely been slammed with the same snowmageddon that is hitting the rest of the mid-Atlantic.
I don’t think we will be dining on the deck anytime soon.
Or grilling for that matter. Funny thing is, DH grilled a hamburger on this very grill just last Friday… before the snow arrived.
While walking out to feed the chickens today Duncan decided he couldn’t be more than 6 inches behind me. This is all well and good when we are just walking, not so great when we are trudging through thigh high snow. He went down while I brought my foot up and off came my boot, to be buried in the 2 1/2 feet of virgin snow. The chickens are in a part of the garden that doesn’t see the plow so the snow is very deep and fluffy. Needless to say my boot was lost in the abyss. So now I am down on my hands knees searching for the the blasted boot. Duncan thinks mom is playing a wonderful new game and wants to help. Pouncing, pouncing, pouncing is fun, mom. Found the boot and of course it is full of snow. Bang the boot on the feed bucket and try to squeeze my snow encased foot into the boot. Thank goodness for handknit wool socks. My foot never got cold or even a little wet. Got to make me some more of these socks.