I am wondering if my garage can hold a cow.

It was equipped to house horses back in the early 1900s, and you can still see the door where they dropped the hay. Maybe a crowbar and a hammer can crack it active once again, and I could get rid of one of my gas grills and that fire pit we never use and throw down a stable.

Fresh milk is the first item grocery stores are fresh out of when a winter storm is brewing, and I have a feeling as the frigid season matures, local roads will only be functional to snowmobiles, and you will not find one of those in my cluttered shed.

Creating cause for this Holstein line of thinking is the reaction of our public works agencies to the puffed-up price in road salt. Many were experiencing quotes that were three times higher than 2007 levels, and some even pulled offers from the table in the hopes that lower prices were sitting just a short distance away. That chair is still in the storage closet, and it will probably gather dust for at least another year as rumors start to swirl on another cost increase leading up to 2010.

So the local salt dome has been put on a strict diet, because there was no way the budget numbers were going to feed off of this concern. Most public works agencies will closely monitor the situation, and if all else fails, throw some sand on the problem.

I think our industry was too quick to reach for that precautionary gallon of milk. Salt mines have been at capacity for almost a year, and the market is only responding to the sharp increase in orders. Due to last year’s sudden burst of snowfall, agencies quickly created a run on the anti-icing substance. Salt distributors only did what any other capitalist American would do—they cashed in on the panic.

To observe the problem in more detail, lets turn to the ice epicenter of the U.S.—Alaska. The state relies on sand to make its roads passable, but needs sodium chloride to keep sand piles from turning into grainy glaciers. Alaska poured $1.3 million into its salt purchases two years ago, and this year it will cost $2.4 million.

The caretaker of the Bering Straits, however, has turned sandpits into sand castles. The city of Anchorage recently completed a voter-approved $1.2 million sand barn, which is heated and can shelter about 10,000 tons of sand. Because the material is now sitting cozy, salt is no longer needed, saving the area $35,000 a year.

Of course, supervisors are still tight with the snow fighter. Crews aim their guns at the most troublesome areas: hills, curves, stops and turns. However, by handling less salt, they are less susceptible to disease. Equipment corrosion is no longer an issue, and bringing in warmer temperatures also has environmentalists taking the heat off the local authority.

I am curious to know what those in the lower 48 are doing to alleviate this catch-22. The use of beet juice has become increasingly popular, but it does have its limitations.

Crews in my neck of the woods have already reverted back to methods of the early 20th century. After the third “significant” snowfall of the season, some of the main roads were still covered with ice, but by lunchtime the sun had performed the last of the road-clearing duties.

I believe public works agencies have bought all the salt they can financially handle and will be using every fiber of fleet management to keep a sharp tab on salt usage. However, they’re at the mercy of Mother Nature. Let’s hope the cows can produce godlike amounts of milk this year.