This is the little birdhouse that sits on my porch. It's mainly decorative by virtue of the fact that no birds have nested in it. The housing market is bad all over.

It was about 10 am when the snow started falling in the gentle rolling hills of Northwest CT. We went out to move our cars in the driveway so that the snow plow could cut a swath from the street to the end of our driveway. By the time the cars in position the snow had started coming down in a hurry.

There was a half inch of the fluffy stuff on our deck in no time. It was soft and light and I could sweep it away with the broom still standing there to sweep off the last of the leaves. Typical of our preparation, our snow shovels were still in the basement. How unlike the snows of my childhood when my dad was in charge.

My father was just as happy as any kid when it snowed even though his drive home from his construction job in NY City might take many times longer than the usual hour and he would have to shovel the snow when he arrived.

And what a shovel Pop had! Not one of those light-weight bright orange ones that are stacked by the dozens in your local supermarket or in super stores screaming their sameness. It was a serious shovel, purchased with consideration for its quality and durability.

The metal scoop looked like the plow on a truck and lifting the shovel without a load of snow would be a strain for me but Pop lifted it like a feather. It cut a path from our Levittown door, down the driveway and into the street. Snow piled up on either side as Pop swung the shovel in the air and snow showered down for the second time.

While Pop worked, I played. I made snowmen with my mother and had snowball fights with the neighborhood kids. We built igloos and forts and snow angels. We stayed out in it until our snowsuits were soaked and our lips were blue. Conditions easily remedied by dry clothes and hot chocolate.

We were kids and it was the best time in life.

So... I didn't build a snowman today or made a snow angel. But I thought about my Dad and enjoyed the snow - even the removal part.

And who knows, there's always tomorrow...