Here, again, is the family chariot, still parked across the street except now it's 11 a.m. of the morning after. It's not quite as buried as it would otherwise be -- Alane went out last night and brushed some snow away. Now she's out again with the boys. The snow seems to have stopped but the wind is kicking up in occasional gusts.

I'm watching from the window as the boys scamper up the snowbanks with their little shovels. Still no sign of frazil ice. I may call in an air-strike anyway.