Libby Genessa stood in her front yard and stared at the object sticking up from the snow. She blinked a couple of times. Backed away. Scooted closer. Closed one eye and waved her hands. Nope. It was still there.

“Ralph!” Her husband—on the porch hanging up a Thanksgiving wreath—waved at her to wait. She hadn’t quite gotten over hanging up a Turkey Day wr…