The fog finally moved out, pushed by strong east winds which also brought snow. Our temps have remained about where they've been, but that is changing, too. The weatherman guesses we'll have single-digit highs for the next few days.This picture was taken around 10:30 a.m., because I was waiting for daylight. (click for enlargificationism)
I like it when the snow flies, as do many others.
There's something ethereal about snow, I think, because of its ability to absorb sound. I love to walk in fresh snow, with the world bright and clean, and quiet. A sound that intrudes becomes an event rather than background, but soon passes, leaving that sense of quiet & unspoiled nature once more.
Snow comes in many forms - some of the Native languages here, I'm told, have 13 different words for snow, depending on its nature. I've experienced snow pellets (my great-grandmother called it "hominy snow"), wet, dry, powdery, granular, crystalline, feathery & fluffy ... I like them all.
Well, the wet stuff ... not so much. Too sloppy. There have been some memorable storms, back in the Midwest, which presented wet, wind-driven snow that built up on the windshield, wipers, and headlights - requiring me to get out and clear them by hand every few minutes. I'm grateful we don't get the wet stuff here.
Years ago, on Adak (halfway out the Aleutian Islands chain, 1330± miles southwest of Anchorage), the snow used to pile up quickly: I saw it go from bare ground to car-door-handle deep in less than 90 minutes. The Navy used Caterpillar D-8s to clear the roads; that might give you a better idea of the volume, because road graders got mired in the drifts.
One Friday evening, I set off to hike to a nearby lake - perhaps two miles from the barracks - as snow was starting. Drifts grew to knee-deep before I'd gone a quarter mile, and I had to turn around. Snowshoes were available, but I feared the snow would cover my little tent during the night.
On Adak, and on the plains of Iowa, I've seen snowdrifts as tall as the buildings they adjoined. A frozen wave of snow, nearly 20 feet high, seems slightly unreal. Perhaps because it looks as though it's in motion, but frozen in a moment.
I don't know how much snow we'll get out of this weather system, nor how much we'll get through the winter, but I promise to enjoy it for you.
Stay warm, folks, and thanks for stopping by.
1 comment:
That's a good essay on the sound and feel of snow. The stuff is beautiful...if you don't have to shovel much of the heavy wet stuff.
We're getting a bit of that hominy snow right now. Little round pellets that rattle against the windows and bounce off the roof. It's actually blowing in from Lake Erie and Lake Ontario both over 90 miles away.
The folks on the east and southeast shores of the Great Lakes may get a foot or two of lake effect in the next 24 hours or so. Some of them got three and four feet last week. That will continue until the lakes freeze.
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