I\u2019ve watched just enough Oprah Winfrey to learn that we need to place our intentions out in the world and then they\u2019ll \u201cmanifest\u201d around us. So, here goes: I\u2019d like winter to end. Now. This has gone on long enough, Universe. You let it snow on the first day of spring, for crying out loud. The joke\u2019s over. However, thawing out from this crazy winter isn\u2019t going to be much fun, either. The first casualty is the decision to clear my driveway after we get that late-season snowfall. Normally, after dealing with so many snowstorms, I\u2019d allow myself to dream that the sun might melt it away for me. However, I did that in late January and enormous ice patches remained on my driveway until the third week in March. Despite having cleared the most recent snow, it was like driving up the Rockies to get into my garage. The minefield Even worse is dealing with the minefield. The minefield is the result of my dogs using the snow on the sidewalk and driveway as their toilet. We get lazy about picking up all the feces in winter because, as I\u2019m sure your mom always told you, \u201cA frozen toilet doesn\u2019t smell.\u201d Alas, a thawing toilet does. Walking toward the house from the driveway becomes an exercise in scouting, forcing you to consider each step carefully lest that latest layer of snow be hiding a fecal surprise you\u2019ll track inside. My wife and I have taken to humming a variation of the Beatles\u2019 Strawberry Fields Forever, as we tip-toe toward our door: \u201cKeep your eyes on the ground as you\u2019re walking through, Frozen Poop Field\u2026\u201d The snowblower delimma I finally got a snowblower several years ago as a concession to the crippling back pain that usually accompanied every shoveling session. Unfortunately, snowblowers throw a significant amount of snow back at the person, pushing the snow into even the slightest breeze. As a result, I end up covered in a mist of my dogs\u2019 waste every time I clear the driveway. I\u2019ve been told I\u2019m \u201cfull of it\u201d before, but being covered in it is far worse. After a long winter like this one, the cracks in my driveway become fissures. Giant pieces of tar bulge from the ground as if trying to squeeze into a tight pair of jeans. Potholes and car axles Fluorescent orange barrels and cones that cover fresh potholes crop up like wildflowers throughout our local roads, creating impromptu obstacle courses on the way to work. Between now and June, when they\u2019ll finally start filling some of them in, I\u2019ll have to watch my wife drive over every uncovered pothole. \u201cOh! I didn\u2019t see that one. They need to fix that!\u201d I\u2019ll do my best to bite my tongue and keep from reminding her that we\u2019ve driven over that same pothole for the last three months. Instead, I\u2019ll silently calculate the cost of that new axle we\u2019re going to need for the car. I could go on, but I\u2019m afraid I might \u201cmanifest\u201d more of that icy white stuff. Instead, I\u2019ll simply ask the Universe to let spring come \u2014 and maybe ask for someone to clear the rest of the melting feces from my back yard. You can read more at RobertFWalsh.net and contact him at rob@RobertFWalsh.net or follow him on Twitter @RobertFWalsh.