Walking to the bus stop this morning I came to a crosswalk with a waist high snow-berm. A tiny mountain created by man and weather. Six inches of snow added to our already healthy snowpack this week and, without the chance to melt, there is nowhere to put it. Homeowners shovel their sidewalks, the city plows the street, and the crosswalks are fucked.

No one is to blame.

Across the street from the tiny mountain, the homeowner had carved a shovel’s width path through the mountain. I walked luxuriously through like a carefree summer version of myself. Nothing more than a dusting of snow between my boots and concrete.

I’m not sure what the standards are for crosswalks but from the climbing adventures around my neighborhood, I’m guessing there is no legal requirement to keep them clear. And I don’t blame the homeowners. Or the city. I wouldn’t want to hack through the ice formations that snow plows and mother nature conspire to create.

I am, however, quite grateful for those corner houses who look out for those of us walking around in this miserable weather. Thanks, friends.

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