On Tuesday morning, as the snow spewed from the sky, I faced up to the certain truth that, once again, I was going to have to reach behind the rakes and brooms to grab one of my least preferred tools of the homeowner trade.

The snow shovel.

I cleared a path on our deck, o’er the pavers, to the backyard shed that I use as my home office. Later that day, during a late lunch break that coincided with a break in the weather, I tackled the front of the house.

Fortunately, my hardworking wife had cleared the sidewalk and half the driveway an hour or two earlier — hey, don’t judge me, I was busy! I’ve been ill! It was my birthday! I’m progressive! I saw “Barbie”! More reasons I’ll think of later!

A few more inches had come down since her effort, and seeing the sun out and knowing there was more snow to come this week, I figured I’d clear the rest of the driveway.

There are few pleasures in life akin to giving the sun and concrete an assist in melting the snow, other than popping pimples and breaking up ice. I love when it gets packed down to sheets an inch or two thick, and then I drive a shovel edge down like I’m breaking ground for a fence post hole. It’s like forcing a miniature glacier to calve, and then the sun starts melting more edges of the glacier and then you get under and edge and break off more large chunks.

It’s like global warming in miniature, but fun. I mean, it’s no trip to the Bahamas, but on my budget, that’s good times when it comes to winter.

Occasionally, when I am feeling strong, neighborly and generous, after I finish clearing every speck of my own concrete, I will go above and beyond my duty as a citizen, and plow a shovel-width line past my neighbor’s houses to reach the street corner on one side, and on the other, connect with the neighbor two doors down who knows they’re supposed to shovel the sidewalk.

I don’t know about your neighborhood, but I see it all in mine. One behavior that really honks my horn is when people sweep snow off their cars, maybe shovel a convenient smidge of their driveway, tossing the snow they’re “removing” ONTO the sidewalk.

As I shoveled my sidewalk, I noticed a neighbor had done just that on Tuesday. Yes, I know, they were probably in a hurry to get to work, but their method made the snow even deeper for potential pedestrians and a bigger hassle for only-slightly-driven-to-neighborliness people such as me.

I’m much more driven to passive-aggressiveness, so there most of it remained. Hey, it’s not my responsibility!

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About 10 years ago, I was shoveling my driveway and sidewalk at the same time as a former resident of that same house was out working on his. The sun was out, and by winter in Central Oregon standards, fairly nice as I recall. He was a recent transplant from the Southwest, easily 20 or more years younger than I, and as we made small talk, he griped to me how he didn’t understand — you’re going to love this — why the city didn’t plow our driveways for us.

Mind you, we live in a subdivision built in the mid-2000s, just ahead of the recession, and the lots are listed on Zillow under “postage stamps.” We’re not talking palatial driveways here. Still, he was indignant, incredulous.

I’m certain I wore a bemused expression on my face before I broke the harsh news that the city doesn’t even plow the street 95% of the time, much less our driveways.

But hey, at least he was out there giving it a go. I can’t say that for everyone in Bend. We have snowfalls after which some people in my neighborhood, and I’m guessing yours, too, never clear the sidewalk.

Which makes this a good place to remind people that per city ordinance 5.35.020, people whose property abuts sidewalks are supposed to clear sidewalks within 24 hours of snow ceasing to fall. (That’s six hours in commercial areas. Also, “abut” is a hilarious word.)

I know the idea of civic duty is probably a dated one in 2024, but we live in a society for the time being, and hey, rules are rules.

Please share this information with your most incredulous neighbors, even if I’m too timid to tell mine directly.

If you can’t, maybe ask your significant other to do it.