Across the street, huge plow trucks are clearing mountainous piles of snow in the moonlight. They are loading what must be tons of snow into dump trucks that cart it off somewhere. I imagine this is happening all over town. This is the time of year we generally get the snow everybody wanted for Christmas.

Cards, flowers and chocolates are traditional Valentine’s Day gifts, as are romantic dinners. The hardest thing about making dinner for people these days, for any occasion, is figuring out what your guests will eat.

In the past there were fewer choices. People are becoming so particular. I remember my daughter when she was very little, sitting on the kitchen counter keeping me company as I made dinner, a black olive on each of her fingers. Every so often, she would pop one into her mouth with obvious pleasure.

I think food should be enjoyed that way, without so many worries and restrictions. Not that people have to go around wearing olives on their fingers, but at least occasionally it would be good to relax a little.

Think of a would-be hostess, trying to plan a Valentine’s Day dinner party. Do the Campbells eat meat? Trillium will eat beef, but only if it is local and grass fed. Lester won’t eat seafood. Peggy can’t eat gluten. Glenn is concerned about leaky gut, whatever that is. I hope he doesn’t talk about it at the table.

And what about dessert? Chocolate is a Valentine’s Day staple. Deanne allows herself only dark chocolate. Janine won’t touch a carb. Maybe I’ll just see if Biff wants to stop by. He’ll eat what’s put in front of him. (Me: Do you like the beef Bourguignon? Biff: I’m eating it, aren’t I?)

You could go out to dinner for Valentine’s Day, weather permitting.

As we all know, trying to forecast the weather is a joke here in the North Country. We do it anyway. We just can’t help it. We watch the weather reports on television, we go to weather.com online where we see the storms, displayed in graduated color bands indicating type and intensity of precip, as they proceed across the USA from the West to the East. If it’s accuracy we’re looking for, though, we might as well look out the window.

Some people say Valentine’s Day is nothing but a Hallmark holiday, invented by the greeting card industry as a manipulative way to rake in more money: The Hallmark Corporation greedily goes after our heartstrings in order to open our purse strings.

Children enjoy Valentine’s Day. So do teenage girls and many women, but I’m not so sure about some grown men. Again, it’s the feeling manipulated thing.

The history of Valentine’s Day is obscured in the dim mists of antiquity, and no one seems able to get it straight. It probably has its roots in the pagan Roman fertility festival, Lupercalia.

Apparently there were at least three different martyred Saint Valentines recognized by the Catholic Church, and many tales of how St. Valentine came to be the patron of lovers, none of them accepted by the Catholic Church.

In 1969 the Catholic Church in Rome dropped the feast of St. Valentine’s Day from its official worldwide calendar, perhaps tiring of all of the peace-love demonstrations of the times, and taking into consideration the sketchy history of St. (Saints?) Valentine. Still, St. Valentine is recognized as a saint of the church. Catholics are neither prohibited from nor required to send out Valentines or buy any of those little candy hearts.

Valentine is the patron saint of lovers, people with epilepsy, and beekeepers. In British folklore, on St. Valentine’s Day wild birds choose their lifelong mates. This is presumably why love birds are such a prominent feature of old-fashioned valentines.

“I don’t like being expected to buy Valentine’s Day (Mother’s Day, anniversary, birthday, etc.) cards and presents,” Biff will tell you. “I prefer to give cards and presents spontaneously, as the spirit moves me.”

Right. And when will that be? You realize, don’t you, you are just being churlish? Knock it off and pick up some flowers. Take my word for it, it will go easier on you in the long run.

Heartstrings, purse strings, no strings attached. Happy Valentine’s Day.

You’ll get through it.

Have a good week.

(Martha Allen, of Keene Valley, has been writing for the News since 1996.)