More medieval cooking on a snowy winter’s eve

This week has become one snow event after another, and we are starting to actually run out of places to put the snow when we shovel.  There are really only two piles: the big one on the other side of our trash and recycling bins, between them and the neighbor’s fence; and the small one in this little corner between the steps and the house, where there is a stump I want dead anyway.  So the little pile is getting close to its maximum practical size, and the other one has reached the height of the bushes.  And trying to chip away all the melted, compacted snow that had refrozen as ice all over the walk and steps took almost an hour of hard work.  Thirty degrees outside and I was sweating.

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