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| The mighty Snow Wolf... |
After about the fifth blizzard update to concerned friends and family in the first week of the month, I decided they'd probably had enough. Some were no doubt even thinking, you said you loved snow, well, you got it. And, yes I do, and yes we did, and then some more. It does tend to wear me out, but I'm still captivated by watching it come down and hearing it crunch under my boots. I've graduated from athletic fun, like sledding, to more gentle snowflake catching, and photographing whatever the drifts allow me to reach. The toboggan has become more functional than recreational, using it with a step stool as a bridge over snowdrifts to get to the bird feeders, or as a rescue vehicle.
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| ...and, the not-so-mighty Snow Squirrel |
Sadly [and, what I really mean is, catastrophically], my camera started malfunctioning after our first big storm. It's always been the best diversion to keep me from picking up a snow shovel. I actually love tunneling my way through snow, but it's #1 on my doctor's list of NO-NO's for me. My attempts to use Ron's iPhone camera were less than stellar, but I got some dandy pictures of my fingertips. One day, trying to stay out of shovel-trouble, I devised some Rube Goldberg-like contraptions using extra gutters to divert melting icicles from the steps. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but, I really needed my camera.
February's timeline started out like this:
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| Thank you, Ponderosa Landscaping |
We started the month having cried uncle, and had both front and back driveways professionally plowed, leaving impressive snow mountains and glistening, black asphalt pathways for the cars. The John Deere plow wasn't going to cut it, and it was our only chance of ever seeing our driveway again this winter with more storms on the way.
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| The Before Picture. We had to show them where the driveway should be. |
Superbowl Sunday was a gorgeous, sunny day, perfect for getting out beyond our own mailbox for a change, so I decided to check on the damage to Coast Guard and Nauset Light beaches. If I thought hiking through sand dunes was getting to be difficult, I found that it's a lot more of a challenge doing it through snow drifts with icy, imbedded footsteps. For my efforts, I found a gnarly, driftwood walking stick, and made friends with a lady I recognized who works at the Stop & Shop. As for the beach, the cliffs looked like a giant earthmoving machine had a ravenous gobble-fest for miles, and part of the buried cedar bogs that appeared after last year's big Nor'easter, reappeared. It's all part of coastal life, like losing the stairs to Nauset Light beach again, for the third time in five years. We adjust and go on.
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| That's where they used to be, so watch that first step! |
On the way home, I decided to drive up the one plowed lane to the top of Fort Hill at the end of our road. On the way, I passed a couple, happily show-shoeing by rows of mailboxes, which peeked hopefully above snowbanks. People were skiing down one side of the hill, and sledding down the other. The ocean was calm and the salt marshes frosty. But, as I said, it was Superbowl Sunday, and Patriots fever was on the rise. Returning to my excavated spot in the driveway between snow mountains, I put on a big pot of Portuguese Kale soup and spent the evening as most Codders did, glued to the most stunning New England win, ever. I was promised some pictures from a friend who says he made good on his pledge to dive into the snow in his underwear if the Patriots won, but I haven't seen proof, yet.
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| First Encounter Beach sand dunes a la mode |
The evening not only brought New England another Superbowl trophy, it also delivered more snow, which became the every-other-day pattern for most of the month. Our days have been filled with rediscovering the walkways, wet clothes, filling bird feeders outside and humidifiers inside. But, the weather didn't deter me from making a trip to The Orleans Camera Store for a consultation with the owner, Dick Mack. Not only is he extremely knowledgeable about his field, it's clear that he's as fascinated with it as his customers, and shares his time and knowledge generously. A quick examination of my camera yielded the bad news that it needed to go to the Nikon dealer for what could be a pricey repair. The good news came in the form of technology advances since purchasing mine almost eight years ago. It didn't take long to decide that the money would be better spent on something new, rather than repairing something old. [Remember when less than a decade wasn't considered old?] So, I now have an amazing new camera and a learning curve as steep as the snowdrifts.
The second week: Progress!
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It took a pickax, but Ron cut a path through the snow mountains in the front driveway
so our little plow can get through from the lot next door to maintain it. |
But, it's not only about snow, this month. At the Lower Cape Outreach Council, my fellow members of the Development Committee are planning the upcoming 2015 fundraisers that support our neighbors in need. Our February "Dinner with the Presidents," the "Annual Super Restaurant Raffle", the "Spring Week of Hope", the Fall Gala and many other efforts don't just happen spontaneously. New ideas and the volunteers to implement them are a year-round quest. LCOC is quiet, but we're definitely not hibernating.
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There isn't enough money in the town budget to plow the bike paths, too,
so diehard winter cyclists have had to hit the main roads. |
And, the doors reopened at the Orleans Community Exchange, the oldest Thrift Shop on the Cape, after the annual break to clean and begin a new membership period. It's an out-with-the-old event, followed by the inevitable in-with-the-new. Nature abhors a vacuum, and our avid year-round consignors returned with new treasures to offer eager shoppers. "Thrifting" remains one of the more popular pastimes for locals and visitors, alike. Sweaters were a popular purchase this month, but between storm closings and a furnace malfunction in the building, February turned out to be just a teaser. We hope to reopen in March with a new furnace.
The third week: Neptune - another 14"
You know when you see the words 'frigid' and 'howling' in the same forecast, it's going to be another heck of a Nor'easter.
Not to let Boston outdo us with their highest total snowfall, ever, Neptune graced the Cape with another foot [or, so] of snow. It didn't seem to be as cataclysmic an event as Juno, or perhaps, with mountains of Juno still on the ground, what's a little wind and another foot of snow? Plowing began early this time, on the roads and on our driveway, before the snow could exceed the capacities of our little engine that could.
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| The engineer, at least, was determined. |
Valentine's weekend, or not, we encouraged cancellation for both expected guests at the B&B. Safe travel always trumps all. But, that didn't stop us from making a run between storms to Plymouth [about an hour's drive] to leave Ron's Boxter to have the back windshield replaced. Yes, Plymouth with the rock, "America's Hometown", but the rock was nestled under a couple feet of snow. It took a lot of windshield wiper fluid and Polarized sunglasses to cut the glare, but it was kind of nice to see what other people who were snowed in looked like for a change of pace. I noticed a number of icicle-laden roofs that had definitely been relieved of some of the snow burden. Roof collapses have been the bane of this winter's frozen bounty, mostly large commercial structures, but many people aren't taking chances.
And, Octavia - another 6"
With more to come. Now, we're starting to be accused of hijacking other regions' winter weather and they actually seem to want it back. As much as some people hate snow, their water supply depends on it. Meanwhile, our fences and gates seem to be getting lower and landmarks are disappearing. The walkways are definitely growing smaller. The most common question heard these days is, "Has Andrea had enough snow, yet?"
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| Redundancy in Art |
So, here's the way I can answer that question. Nobody would have even thought to ask my mother, "Have you had enough chocolate, yet, Lorraine?" Or, my dad, "Have you caught enough fish, Sam?" How would I possibly get too much snow in only three out of twelve probable months? That's one season out of four. I've only lived in New England [where there's a much better chance of snow than Virginia] for eight out of fifty+ years. That means I've spent more than half a century hoping for snow days that never came. Now, I don't like math very much, but I think that, in this case, the numbers say it all. I have a lot of time to make up for, enjoying peaceful, lacy curtains of snow and gentle, snowflake eyelash-kisses. It brightens the otherwise bleak landscape for awhile, and I get to wear sweaters that feel like warm hugs. Didn't you love finding out for the first time that you could blow 'smoke' with cold air? And, who else couldn't resist making cracks in icy puddles on the way to school? As an adult, I also appreciate that the passing snow plows represent paychecks that feed and warm families in the off-season. So, to answer the question, has Andrea had enough snow, yet, in MY winter wonderland, we've maybe had more than our fair share, BUT it's not too much for me. Disclaimer: as always, please bear in mind that I have no connections with any higher power to cause snow, I just appreciate it.
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This is what Cape Cod Bay looks like at First Encounter Beach.
If you look closely, you can see where the ice meets the horizon. |
Pandora graced us with flurries and sleet, while the South got deadly ice, snow and cold in places that never see it.
I overheard two old women talking about the weather the other day. One exclaimed that she'd been living in Eastham for 64 years and she'd never seen anything like this winter. "Oh, sure, we got snow," she said, "but, it usually melted before we got the next storm! My yard has disappeared!" With March rapidly approaching, I wonder what people will find to talk about next month? If you can't find anything else useful about snow, it at least unites and engages people in a common state of affairs. February has proven most of us to be a resilient, if not weary bunch. There are the usual achy snow-shoveling muscles, and the constant interruption of routines that confuse otherwise clear thinking. A case in point: when our friend said he uses sand for the snow in his driveway instead of salt and I asked him where he buys it. DUH...we live at the beach. Our regulars, Dave & Ray don't let the snow stop them from coming over for lattes and snow stories the morning after a storm. Neighbors help out neighbors wherever it's needed. And, since I'm banned from shoveling, I made a big lasagna to feed our determined volunteer shovelers. Some days, when the sun comes out, the glare from the white drifts are so bright, we actually lower the blinds. Snow or shine, I manage to keep our birds happy and even get a little exercise high-stepping through the drifts to get to all the feeders.
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| The Latte Regulars - Show & Tell Time |
Quantum - the big February finish? - another 5" predicted.
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The Winter 'Howdy' Tree
Only one out of three scheduled guests actually got to stay this month because of the weather. They flew in from Virginia, luckily squeezing in between storms for their grandmother's birthday party. As for the rest, it just wasn't wise to mess with Mother Nature, but our summer bookings have been brisk.
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| Yes, it's really a Robin, but don't let it fool you. We have them all winter, here. |
For anyone who has been struggling to remain upright on the ice and snow with just a little dignity, I leave you with this short video, which will make you count your blessings:
