We are as famous for our yearly iceberg as we are our leg lamp. There are four houses on the west side of the street who share the same, giant berg. It begins in January, when the temperatures dip low enough to freeze any snow that the sun has the audacity to melt during the few hours it is able to dapple through the dense line of trees that guard the berg.
We've been here over 20 years. I have a memory of the neighborhood association leaving a note on the garage door the first two years, then they ceased bothering us. It is clear that we have no control, and they got tired of risking their life to cross the thing and endanger their own life just to leave a note stating the obvious: "Your iceberg is treacherous".
Our neighbor has a snow blower. It makes no difference. We had a snow blower. The tire blew out. The Berg is The Boss of our driveway from January to April, every year. Walk your dog on the east side. The west side is impassable. Delivery trucks get stuck trying to turn around. Last year an Amazon truck was stranded so thoroughly that neighbors from both sides emerged with towels and shovels and carpet scraps, It took four of them to finally just push the truck into the street. The mail man bounces around like he's crossing the lunar surface. Last night a Jeep who had been to visit our neighbor, got stuck turning around. A Jeep.
It's been around so long, I've finally named it: Milton Berg.
I think I'm funny.
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