The Unsung Heroes

This morning as I was sitting in the living room enjoying my coffee, the blissful quiet that comes from sleeping children, and the Christmas lights, the snow plow went by on the road. And I thought, for the 20th time, "Man, those are some impressive plow guys."*

They really are. The plowing in this township is incredibly diligent and prompt. Our tiny, very unpopulated street here is plowed much more promptly than the busy main road we lived on at Blackrock. I suppose it's because there's just so much snow here that the plowing is a regular thing and scheduled for accordingly. But I tell you what: I really, really appreciate it.

In fact, it occurred to me that it would not be amiss to bring some kind of holiday treat to the town barn where the plow guys are based. They do at least as much for quality of life here as the mail lady or the dump lady, both of whom will be receiving a loaf of homemade bread or a jar of jelly as a Christmas gift.

What do you think the plow guys would like? Probably a day off, but I can't give them that.

* In the interest of fairness, I suppose there could be plow women too, but it's unlikely.