Another week, another blizzard.
Sunday night brought eight inches of snow to our sleepy town. I feel like I'm getting used to the snow -- like this is the new norm. Monday morning, I drove into work for half a day. There were literally only two other cars on the road. I thought I did fairly well considering my limited previous experience (which includes both a 270-degree spin as well as the mailbox incident). I suppose I have to credit my new-found snowy-road driving skills to the DK Summit Course on Mario Kart.
I've made snow creme, a snowman (aka "got my Frosty on), and a snow angel, thrown snow balls, had hot chocolate, and attempted to go sledding on a knee board (didn't work). I'm not sure what more I can do, aside from building a cozy fire. And the last time I tried that the landlord seemed a little perturbed.
Do you have any idea how rare it is for us to have two snowman-able snows in one winter? It hasn't happened in over four thousand years. OK, maybe not that long, but I can't recall it ever happening. Of course, I also can't recall what I had for supper last night, so take that as you will.
It has gotten me to thinking about significant snows of the past that I've experienced. The first one that came to mind was the ice storm of '85.
I'm pretty sure it was a Thursday or Friday morning in late January or early February. I was eleven and still living with my parents at the time. The power went out very early. I remember lying in bed and hearing these thunderous, window-rattling booms and seeing what looked like green lightning through the windows. I thought it must literally be thunder, but Dad said that the transformers were exploding.
Dad had to go to work regardless. They had a generator where he worked, and since we had no power or heat, he loaded us all in the car -- Mom, my sister and me -- and off we went. We didn't get far.
What looked like six or seven inches of peaceful, unblemished snow turned out to be several inches of snow covered with a thick, solid sheet of ice. Dad must not have known that because as soon as he backed out of the carport, the old Monte Carlo hit the ice and skidded straight into the ditch. A cop with tire chains pulled us out, I think, and carried Dad on into work. Fortunately, that's the only time I ever saw Dad carried away in a patrol car.
I don't remember how long we were without power, but I don't think more than a day. Of course, living in town we were among the first to get power back. Others went without it for days. I do distinctly remember the power coming back on before the cable did and playing Combat on the Atari 2600 for hours. The rest of that extended weekend was spent playing in the snow and ice. It was so slick you could have about sledded uphill.
I fully expected to be out of school for a couple of days -- by the end of the weekend, most everything had melted -- but then we wound up being out of school for at least two more days the next week, too. Counting Saturday and Sunday, we were out of school for five or six days straight. Talk about hitting the snow-day lottery.
It is true that the South completely shuts down with even an inch or two of snow. But never in my life were things shut down for as long as they were during the ice storm of '85. I've never seen anything like it before or since.
"I wonder if she thinks about Jackson Hole. Nights beside the fire and angels in the snow..."