By Roger Witherspoon Download and/or Print Article There was more than a foot of snow on the ground and the stuff was still falling fast. It was a fine, light, white powder, the kind my SkiDoc sister flies to Colorado and Montreal to zip through for a week. But skiing isn’t my passion, I had errands to run, the street was a compacted, white blanket and the pending car trip looked less and less inviting. The two foot tall barrier mound of dirty snow left by the town’s snow plo