Last year when to make a path through the woods I began laying the fallen timbers in our yard, I was unaware of its significance. At the time it was just a way to use all the dead trees laying around, but now it is more of a symbol.

Its month of construction was difficult. If not for the years of decay in these woods, the path would have been half its final length, but there was plenty to line the 1500 feet of walking space that I eventually cleared. I had grossly underestimated this small parcel’s disrepair and the length of the walkway I would end up making. It was way longer than I anticipated.

Maintenance during the summer was easily done with a rake, maybe that took ten minutes on a good day. Yet after the first snowstorm I had second thoughts about the decision I made to keep it clear all winter.

Most people here don’t even shovel their driveway. Why would I decide to remove snow by hand from a square mile of 4-foot pathway winding through our yard?

Sometimes on the mornings when we got only a few inches I could clear the whole thing in a couple hours, but that didn’t happen much. That first snowfall was over a foot deep and it took days to move it all. But it wasn’t cold yet. When it was 15 below zero I didn’t bother working too hard outside, but I still nibbled away the snow. Freezing on those cold, dim days eventually allowed me to realize how pleasant the silence was, and I appreciated that no one else was outside while I warmed my numb digits and admired the alpenglow.

Last summer when I laid those logs outlining the path, I admitted to the boy it really had no purpose other than a creative use for detritus, but the project grew into an oath. By the middle of the snowy La Niña winter, my little agreement had a life of its own. Maybe my past self would have felt some kind of pride when we realized the snow is waist deep, but I just shrugged and kept shoveling. Because keeping it clear is the goal, right?