For all the hoopla from the weather watchers, the snow we had yesterday didn't amount to very much, at least not here. Hanover received about 4.5 to 5 inches of the fluffy stuff, though it did drift deeper than that around the carport and the old chicken coop in the back yard. ...
From the looks of it coming down yesterday morning, I thought we might be in for one of our area's infamous late winter snows, especially since we've had so little precipitation this winter, to date. The usual pattern is that when we've had a relatively dry (rain or snow) winter in November through February, then come March, especially mid-March, we get a whopper of a snowfall. Now, 'whopper' is relative, mind you. What constitutes a whopper of a snowfall here in south-central Pennsylvania is but a dusting - think powdered sugar on a doughnut - for other parts of the state.
...
If we do receive snow in March, it is usually in the range of 18-to-30 inches. Such a snowfall is cause for great celebration with kids of all ages in the neighborhood. No school! Maybe not for two days! Snow forts and snowball fights! Building snowmen and snow slides in the backyards! Yippee!! Snow!
...
One year, one with snow in the deeper range, we had snow-mobilers riding over our front lawn and sidewalk. Our lawn (now, that's an exaggeration in itself, but I digress) slopes down to the alley surface in about a foot-and-a-half drop, which, when padded with nearly 30 inches of snow, must make for a rather exciting ride. Exciting for them, annoying as hell for me. So it goes.
...
I thought for sure that yesterday morning's blizzard-like snow was going to accumulate into one of the whoppers, but it didn't. More's the pity. I like snuggling into my warm house, making hot chocolate, reading one of those hundreds of books I keep meaning to get to, listening to the muffled sounds of traffic outside and the squeals of delight from the outrageously happy kids.
...
...
A couple of years ago, I stepped out into a fantasy land of ice crystals covering everything exposed to the air. Something I had never heard of before had passed through the neighborhood during the night - an ice-fog! Although the sun was up and shining for all it was worth, the atmosphere was so thick, seemed I should be able to swipe my hand through it, like a scoop through ice cream, and gather together a ball of ice. The sunlight was refracted into thousands - millions! - of shards of rainbow. It reminded me of looking through a crystal fob from my grandmother's coal oil lamp when I was a child. Magical - just pure magic!
...
At the gate, along the fencing beneath a serviceberry tree, there grows an autumn clematis. It dies off and drops its leaves at the first hard frost of late fall. The ice fog settled along the naked vines, leaving behind ice brambles. I was fortunate to capture the shot (above) of them, for they melted like cotton candy on a tongue as soon as sunlight broke through the fog and touched the vines.
...
This is only the beginning of March. Still plenty of time for a real whopper to hit us!
(c) 2009 Martha McLemore
12 comments:
That is so beautiful. Truly. When I see pictures like that I miss the snow just a bit.
Shall I send thee some? :-)
I don't miss snow, having never had it. But the sharpness of the crystals on the clematis is very pretty.
It was breathtaking to see that morning, Terry. Glad you appreciate them.
This is such a different side of nature's magic to my home in Oz. White diamonds at your place, brilliant teal blue sparkles of water in mine.
I detect, when reading American blogs, that there seems to be a big difference between brief visits of the white stuff and full on threats that attend a snow storm. I suspect that short term is a novelty - and long term ... well!
Hello, June -
Your suspicions are correct. For those of us who don't own ski resorts, or don't frequent them, really deep snows can turn our worlds upside down. In my town, the borough doesn't plow all the streets right away, just those leading to the government offices, the hospitals and the banks. The rest of us take our lives in our hands until we reach the roads leading up to the borough boundaries.
If I have no place to go, the heating oil tank is full and the pantry is well stocked, I like the whoppers. They can be quite beautiful.
Must say, though, your lovely photos of the teal waters near your home had me longing for summer this afternoon. I just loved the one of the girl surprised by the sea spray. What fun!
Martha
the top pic reminded me of icecream, snowball fights and snowmen... and reading through you delightful post, i found them all there...
thanks...
It is I who thank you, HB, for taking the time to read my post. Glad you stopped by today.
When it snowed here in December they didn't even plough the roads to the hospitals but everybody was expected to get to work anyway. There were no buses up here for 5 days.
I prefer to look at snow in the distance - like 55 miles away on Mt. Hood.
Ouch! I'll try to keep you situation in mind next time we get snow. At least we can get to the hospital easily around here.
Which side of the volcano do you live on?
St. Helen's is also about 55 miles away and we're on the western side of it. I've been told by people who were here when it erupted that it was invisible because of the ash that mostly blew east. Hood is directly across form Portland but SH is to the NE.
Snow removal in cities that are prepared for it gets done fairly quickly. Montreal was the best at it that I ever saw.
My youngest brother was living in Corvallis when MSH blew. Quite a spectacle, he said, even as far south as he was.
I don't want to give them impression the borough guys scrape the road down to the blacktop, but we can at least navigate our way out to the important places. Still, there's always a whole lot of slipping and sliding going on just to go get the emergency milk, bread and toilet paper. :D
Post a Comment