Shovelling Water
Weather here in the Northeast is approximately as predictable as weather anywhere else in the country at this season -- in this particular season! -- Terrifying!
For some folks the matter of "terror"-ible weather has some substance to it -- a lot of substance: 25 feet in diameter boulders, 40 meter waves, 16 foot cresting fluvia of rivers that are usually hardly existent or mere slip streams of drainage. In my case the terror is, to date, reserved to the weight of the snow: my lower back is twisted in an eternal sprain from being cow-kicked as a toddler and, to boot, I did significant damage to my right shoulder during the fall. Concentrated shovelling is out of the question -- not because of the back (I can always brace that and set to) but owing to the inability of the shoulder to take the strain of lifting, throwing.
Fortunately, I have an ATV with plow that until yesterday had managed to scrape off and push back the bulk of snow thus far deposited on the driveway of the old homestead. Yesterday we awakened to three inches of not yet running off slush. Three inches: not really enough to justify plowing, but with a breath of warm air promised, to be followed by icing and sub-zero chill, it was clear that what lay there had to be encouraged to disappear as run off, right down to pavement, rather than freeze in mini-moguls to skid and skitter on that might last the rest of the winter.
I chose a push shovel, for the obvious reasons, and got to work -- lots of work. Still, occasionally one must lift and throw, despite the purpose for which the shovel of choice was designed. This joy resulted in some satisfactions, much laughable splashing spillage that became less amusing as I porceeded with the work, and a whole Village of pain in my right shoulder and upper arm.
Why is any of this worth noting: because it stuck with me throughout the day, throughout the night, and sticks with me as I sit keyboarding. Also, it is worth noting for the opportunity to register my dissatisfaction with (so so much) modern design: e.g., that the push shovel I used might easily have been formed to include sides that would hold whatever is being shovelled, from mineral to water contents, instead of providing bowling alley runways -- left and right -- for spillage. (The design I have at my disposal is truly so-so.)
Each of us might profit from noting the designs we encounter, especially those which we are forced to use by requirements of the workplace or those we actually purchase for personal use, that are incompetent for the purpose/s to which they are supposed to be put. This, doubtless, results from the inexperience of the designing engineer for the work s/he is presumably striving to a) make possible and b) easier. It is the difference between the Roman plow and the Jefferson mouldboard plow that led to the Seth Thomas (Middlebury, Vermont) iron plow that led to the variety of plows available at this date. Instead, it seems that the inexperience of our engineers is dragging us backward into near stupidity: hardly a cook outside of the classically trained chef knows the purpose of any knife in the kitchen and so uses paring knives to cut vegetables and French knives to cut meat and pare potatoes and thinks that every knife that is serrated is a good knife and any that are not must be inferior; and none know about, are conscious of, or competent to the task of sharpening knives.
Instead, left to their own deivces in their designer kitchens, they shovel water. Stick with it!
For some folks the matter of "terror"-ible weather has some substance to it -- a lot of substance: 25 feet in diameter boulders, 40 meter waves, 16 foot cresting fluvia of rivers that are usually hardly existent or mere slip streams of drainage. In my case the terror is, to date, reserved to the weight of the snow: my lower back is twisted in an eternal sprain from being cow-kicked as a toddler and, to boot, I did significant damage to my right shoulder during the fall. Concentrated shovelling is out of the question -- not because of the back (I can always brace that and set to) but owing to the inability of the shoulder to take the strain of lifting, throwing.
Fortunately, I have an ATV with plow that until yesterday had managed to scrape off and push back the bulk of snow thus far deposited on the driveway of the old homestead. Yesterday we awakened to three inches of not yet running off slush. Three inches: not really enough to justify plowing, but with a breath of warm air promised, to be followed by icing and sub-zero chill, it was clear that what lay there had to be encouraged to disappear as run off, right down to pavement, rather than freeze in mini-moguls to skid and skitter on that might last the rest of the winter.
I chose a push shovel, for the obvious reasons, and got to work -- lots of work. Still, occasionally one must lift and throw, despite the purpose for which the shovel of choice was designed. This joy resulted in some satisfactions, much laughable splashing spillage that became less amusing as I porceeded with the work, and a whole Village of pain in my right shoulder and upper arm.
Why is any of this worth noting: because it stuck with me throughout the day, throughout the night, and sticks with me as I sit keyboarding. Also, it is worth noting for the opportunity to register my dissatisfaction with (so so much) modern design: e.g., that the push shovel I used might easily have been formed to include sides that would hold whatever is being shovelled, from mineral to water contents, instead of providing bowling alley runways -- left and right -- for spillage. (The design I have at my disposal is truly so-so.)
Each of us might profit from noting the designs we encounter, especially those which we are forced to use by requirements of the workplace or those we actually purchase for personal use, that are incompetent for the purpose/s to which they are supposed to be put. This, doubtless, results from the inexperience of the designing engineer for the work s/he is presumably striving to a) make possible and b) easier. It is the difference between the Roman plow and the Jefferson mouldboard plow that led to the Seth Thomas (Middlebury, Vermont) iron plow that led to the variety of plows available at this date. Instead, it seems that the inexperience of our engineers is dragging us backward into near stupidity: hardly a cook outside of the classically trained chef knows the purpose of any knife in the kitchen and so uses paring knives to cut vegetables and French knives to cut meat and pare potatoes and thinks that every knife that is serrated is a good knife and any that are not must be inferior; and none know about, are conscious of, or competent to the task of sharpening knives.
Instead, left to their own deivces in their designer kitchens, they shovel water. Stick with it!
posted by Duct Tape at 10:18 AM
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