A Frosty Retrospective

Well, here we are in the waning days of February, and at this point I think it’s undeniable that we’re also finishing up The Winter That…Wasn’t. I say this because in a typical year the cold period (such as it is in lovely Chapel Hill) is usually winding down right about now--as evidenced by pleasantly warming temperatures and the first brave (if somewhat reckless, depending how fickle Mother Nature behaves in these transitional weeks) flowers and buds popping out around town. But in 2020 those things began happening toward the end of JANUARY, which was super-freaky at the time, for sure, but also not quite believable, like “Yeah, yeah, daffodils and dogwoods, I see you, but don’t get used to hanging around, ‘cuz you’re gonna be awfully sorry…and frozen…when things get back to normal!” But that’s just it…the entire season was mild, which to me made it feel like some kind of weird, I don’t know…post-Fall limbo?

1983

As the odd situation dragged on through the first several months of the year, it slowly started to dawn on me that we might make it through the whole Winter without seeing even a solitary particle of white stuff to appease the Frost Giants…or what have you. And imagine my surprise when I found myself feeling…disappointed about that. I mean, this is ME we’re talking about, the person who detests being chilly…who’s struck by Spring Fever around Valentine’s Day every year (not coincidentally, when pitchers and catchers report to camp)…who moved to NC at least in part to escape the boundless freezing precipitation and endless shivering. 

And yet…I realized that if we did somehow manage to avoid the s-word, it would mark the only time in my existence—to the best of my recollection, at least—that I’d ever experienced a flake-free year. Huh. That in turn led me rambling down Memory Lane, to reminisce about some of the more noteworthy storms in my lifetime, of which 3 sprang instantly to mind. So, join me if you will for a stroll through the archives, as we examine a few snowy incidents from my past:

The first occurred in 1983. I’d gone to school as usual in the morning, and all through the day what had started out as a vague curiosity about a possible impending weather event built into excited chatter based on the prediction that we could be hit with a foot or more of accumulation. However, my biology teacher, whom we knew to be a meterological hobbyist of sorts, flatly refuted the forecast. “We’re getting 36 inches,” he stated…undeterred by the vocal skepticism of his class. And whattya know: the professionals woefully underestimated the totals…and Mr. Hoffman was bang on target.

1996

Thus blanketed by mounds of snow, our area was gifted with an unplanned week-long vacation...but the effects went much further than that. For example, my father had undergone a knee operation, and my mother was told she had to either take him home slightly ahead of schedule, or be prepared to leave him in the hospital until they dug out. (She opted to retrieve him early.) Even more…exciting…our next door neighbor evidently cut themselves with a sharp knife and called 911. But we lived on a cul-de-sac, in a rural setting, which realistically wasn’t going to glimpse a snowplow for several days, minimum. So the ambulance stopped at the top of our road, and paramedics rode a snowmobile the rest of the way to the house, then loaded the injured person onto a SLED, and dragged them back to the vehicle. I’m telling you, this was pretty wild stuff for our quiet little corner of the world, folks!

That brings us to 1996, the first time I think I heard the term “snowpocalypse” applied to a wintry scene. In this case, the story unfolded over the course of a week, in which the clouds delivered a foot of fresh powder…several different times! Given that I was living in Maryland—rather than, say, the Midwest--localities simply didn’t have the resources to launch a targeted clearing effort on the existing snowfall before the next round arrived…so it just piled up some more. I was working for a school system at the time, and you can guess that we were closed for the duration. I remember a conversation with my mother, who was sweetly concerned that I—a single woman living alone—would somehow be stranded without access to food. I reminded her that while this might be an issue for her, still living in the same house in which I grew up, in my location I could literally walk (or, you know, cross country ski, if necessary) out my front door…and stomp 50 yards across the street to the Safeway.

2009

Even better: a couple I was good friends with also were enjoying the unexpected time off, and we hatched a plan to take an impromptu trip to the nearest ski resort. While the initial excursion miiiiiight have been…um…”ill-advised”, as it involved white-knuckle navigating through blizzard conditions to reach the resort, we were abundantly rewarded by having the slopes pretty much to ourselves (yeah, yeah, because no one else was foolish enough to risk it, whatever), with pristine fluffy natural cover on the hills, the likes of which is rarely seen by East Coast skiers. We proceeded to do it again twice more during our little hiatus…thus spoiling me for any other kind of ski-bunny adventure, to be honest. Oh well, it was awesome while it lasted! 

Finally, we jump to 2009-10, which represented the first time the boys were around for significant snowy shenanigans. That season made an impression because we got socked by a major storm in December, causing everyone to dust off the “snowpocalypse” designation again—it had been a while, after all, so I guess we can forgive the newspeople for repeating themselves. But then, we got another biggie in February—and if I remember correctly it had been frigid enough that not all of the leftovers from the first go-around had melted, so it just landed on top, and inspired the journalists to scramble for an updated hyperbole…which ended up being “snowmageddon”. 

Of course, by this time it was my sons’ turn for an extended midyear break, so stop me if you’ve heard this before, the academic year was suspended for, blah blah blah, however many days it took to get us dug out. I do recall, though, how much FUN they had--riding their sleds, building snowpeople, romping with the neighbor kids, having snowball fights, etc. I also remember the less…entertaining….aspects of such an episode, like the extraordinary amount of shoveling required to clear our driveways and part of our dead-end street (the upside being that we residents all helped each other, so it ended up being somewhat social as well. Silver lining!). Not to mention the preposterous process of outfitting my little yetis with all the gear they needed to withstand their time in the tundra…several times a day with the “on again, off again” nonsense as they came in and out of the house to eat, rest, dry off, thaw out, etc.

2020

This brings us full circle back to present day. Lo and behold, no sooner had I lamented our lack of flurries, than we were lightly brushed by the…I don’t know…Ice Fairy?...who pirouetted through, waved her crystal wand, and bestowed upon us just a taste of Winter. In my opinion, it was actually perfect: picturesque drifting down from the heavens, just enough on the trees and grass to be photogenic…but not so much on the roads as to impact our daily activities very much. (And yes, of course the NC Powers That Be canceled classes…for one day before any precipitation fell at ALL, and the second day for the dusting that showed up. Having spent the last 5 years here, I can’t help but be amused by this…while also shaking my head.)

So, this fulfilled my requirements for a not-completely-lame Winter, even if just barely. It’s hard to explain, but in my mind I was beginning to feel like we hadn’t earned Spring, in some way. However, NOW we can move forward in good conscience toward the season of baseball, balmy days, and brisk breezes. (Sure, I do understand that’s not how it works…but nevertheless…) And I don’t know if you noticed, but this cycle—at least in Maryland—seems to come around every 13 years…kind of like climate clockwork! Hmm…so we’re technically still in the Mid-Atlantic region…let’s appreciate our good fortune for now, and make a mental note to brace ourselves for the next epic tempest…in 2022!