It snowed again in the night, and as I enjoyed my perambulations in the morning sun, I noticed many diligent workers wielding snow shovels. Some were on the sidewalks in front of private residence buildings. Many were on public walkways in or near Pechersk Lavra. They were using what looked to me to be very primitive shovels--straight and flat pieces of sheet metal rivited to wooden boards, or wooden shovels, or even old mediaeval looking brooms made from long branches. Interestingly, the men I saw working with the shovels didn't seem to be accomplishing much, but the women--and these were not young women--were making real headway.
One of my grandfathers built his own snow shovel, which could plow the entire width of a Salt Lake City street, and even into his seventies, he would arise at 3:00 or 4:00 in the morning, and essentially shovel the snow all the way around the block in his West-side home. He was of the same mettle and determination as the older women I saw this morning.
I guess we could classify people in this world as shovelers and loafers. Some are willing to clear the path for those who follow, to scrape away the ice, push aside the snow. Others are content to watch, to chat, to smoke, to let their fellow laborers do the heavy lifting.
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