It happened last year, too. Last year, I no sooner put the wreath out upon the lamp post than a Nor-easter whipped through and knocked it off. Last year had less snow and more frozen mud. By the third time it had been knocked off in as many weeks, I left it there on the ground until it thawed enough to be tossed into the compost piles out back.

This year I brought the wreath home and securely (I thought) wired it to the lamp post. I still needed to add the bow which was in storage but at least it was out and looking quite nice, I thought. I was pleased to see that it survived last weekends Nor-easter.

It did not, however, survive the snow blower.

Or was it the operator of the snow blower? (Sing it with me! “Ma-cho, ma-cho man!! da-da-da-da-da”) Yup, that’s my man blowing his stack any which way, clearing off the driveway that we do not use when it snows. Don’t ask. It’s complicated.

In any case, it lay buried in the snow drift, got iced on, and is now a permanent layer of our winter lawnery. I did have *other* plans for the holiday lawnery, but what with the snow and ice and all, they haven’t been put out. Several of our more organized, anal, OCD and filled with spare time neighbors have set up extensive displays of those inflatable thingys. They are mostly buried now, although I can see the tip of Frosty’s hat in one yard.

The exterior lighting displays still shine kaleidescope-bright which pleases me enormously. Eye-candy all over the place as I trundle home in the dark.