I know it seems to be a little mundane to write about the weather.
But I have to be honest. Year after year, the snow that collects where I live tends to blow me away a little.
About a week ago, a friend of mine from England posted a picture of a snowfall they had, which made national news there. And I know that England is not used to having snow, so for them it was a big deal. But to me, it looked like someone had sifted a bit of icing sugar over their trees and cars.
This was especially the case since the picture came just after Newfoundland had a two day long snowstorm resulting in somewhere around 90 cms of snow.
To give you an idea of whatwe had, here are somepictures:
|The first night|
|My back porch, still the first night.|
|The same porch, before bed a couple of hours later.|
|When the storm had passed.|
Less than a week later, we had another 20 or so cms fall.
And that’s just the beginning of our season.
Last year, our last snowfall was the first week of June. By the time the last snowfall comes, I won’t be able to see out of my living room window.
|Because the snow plow will keep building that pile.|
And that’s another thing. Plow as they may (in the middle of the night, thrusting 90% of the snow on to our lawn and the one across the street), somehow the side roads and cul-de-sacs like mine will perpetually look like this:
|We haven’t had substantial snowfalls in days!|
Snow is beautiful, and fun. But when it collects to the point where it consumes my home, I start to understand why bears hibernate.