"We're in a very busy pattern of systems,"

... said Bob McMahon, a meteorologist with the National Weather Service, in this morning's local paper.

No kidding, Bob.

We had a major storm, which dumped just under a foot of snow, last Tuesday and Wednesday, then another, smaller storm, which dumped about about five inches on Saturday, and then the bottom dropped out of the thermometer Saturday night, yesterday and today.

Looking forward? Another three to six inches tonight and tomorrow, more on Christmas Eve, and then a "wintry mix" on Friday.

The weather web site is so packed with warnings, watches and advisories that it would take five minutes to read them all.

The weather around the Dells right now is like the economy -- after what's been happening, I don't even want to know what is likely to happen next.

The good news is that it might get above zero today. It tried yesterday, but didn't make it. The day started out at ten below, hit six below by noon, four below by dinner time, and two below at bedtime. Then it started down again. The high predicted for today is, by way of contrast, six above. Hell, by this week's standards, that's Florida.

Yesterday was a beautiful day, if brutal. The wind chills stayed in the minus-20 to minus-30 range all day long, and the wind was blowing hard.

Sauk County's finest reported that most rural roads were "impassable" -- that's "impossible" for cars and trucks -- and told us all to stay off the roads. The State Police warned that Interstate 90-94 from the Dells to Camp Douglas was "ice covered" and extremely hazardous. And so on.

I canceled my meetings Sunday morning, so I wasn't planning to go anywhere. But the wind made shoveling and snow blowing tricky.

Given the powder snow and the winds, I had to make sure that the snow fluff was always blowing away from me as I worked. Wet snow on skin in minus-30 windchill means quick-frozen face. So I worked very carefully.

I don't have a lot to clear up. I shovel the walk from the front door and the concrete pad outside the garage, and then use the snow blower on the rest. The driveway isn't more than two hundred feet long. I like to keep the driveway open about 16 feet wide for most of its length, widening out to 24 feet at the garage, and the wye pad about the same width.

All told, I'm clearing less than an eighth acre, about the size of a city lot, which doesn't amount to much.

The tricky part, on a windy day like yesterday, is that most of the driveway runs through woods, and the wind changes directions along the drive every twenty or thirty feet as it swirls among the trees. The stronger the wind, I've found, the more the wind seems to change directions.

Every storm has a pattern, I've noticed. The front edge of the storm is usually warm, with winds out of the southwest. When the eye passes near, the winds die down. After the eye passes, the winds tend to come along the back side of the storm from the northeast, and then the northwest.

I try to do the driveway in the eye, when it is calm. It is lovely then -- still warm, and the fresh snow is often dazzling eye candy. The eye passed through Saturday night, between eight and ten, so I missed it.

And yesterday, with strong, swirling winds and blowing snow, was tricky work.

I'll have to go out again this morning, of course, because the drifting yesterday afternoon and evening closed up part of the driveway and because the township plow will be coming through again this morning, widening the road to include the first few feet of ditch on either side, so the end of the driveway will be ugly.

I'll go out as soon as I hear the plow go past, both ways.

A perennial topic of discussion and disagreement in this area is the question of whether it is better to shovel and snow blow several times during a storm, keeping up with it, or just wait until it is over, and do it once.

The topic breaks out whenever local men start talking about storms, just as soon as everyone has had a chance to tell the tale of the worst storm they remember.

The question of how to deal with snow during major storms is a bit like the Windows/Apple controversy or the question of when to lay the manure, in the sense that there isn't really a definitive answer and opinions on both sides are deeply held, no matter how unfounded.

I'm of the "do it early, do it often" school of thinking, in part, I suppose, because that is the way I was raised to do it, and in part because I tend to be proactive by nature, so I'm happiest when I'm doing something about a storm, instead of just sitting around waiting, passively, for it to be over.

Being male, naturally, I never talk about my views in those terms. Instead, I climb the mountain of manly principle and steely logic, and take the position that keeping up with the storm is easier on the back and on the equipment. "No point in abusing the machinery ..." I say.

No matter that what I'm doing is the Wisconsin equivalent of farting in a hurricane. I will stick to my hard-earned opinion all the way to the gates of Hell, and beyond. It's my nature.

Like most men, I learned early, dealing with my mother and the other women of her generation, that it is best to stand firm on "That's my story and I'm sticking to it ..." no matter how many contrary facts got tossed into my path. And, like most men, I apply that principle to my opinions about things like dealing with snow storms.

So, say what you will about farting in hurricanes, and feel free to point out that I'm doing twice the work I would otherwise have to do, that's my opinion and I'm sticking to it.

For good reason, too.