October snowstorm
Someone somewhere is getting the weather schedule all wrong. Fall is named for leaves, people, not snow. Get it right. Here we were, at the end of October, and most of the trees not only still had their leaves but mostly still had green leaves. Then, October 29th, snow fell. Thick, sticky snow, while beautiful, also means bad news for full-canopied trees. Unsurprisingly, the weight took its toll, and my town and much of New England were plunged into darkness. Past midnight, my roommate arrived home from a wedding that managed to happen in spite of the unseasonable snowfall. We were going to shovel the driveway to save her car from the plows, but we had to shovel the yard next to the driveway thanks to a tree that had fallen directly behind my car (close call!).
Come morning, we transferred the contents of our fridge and freezer to a cozy little shaded spot in the front yard, where our food has stayed at a steady 32 degrees for the past few days. We were fortunate to have a working gas stove and hot water, but our heat was out. We triple-layered and cuddled with cats to stay warm, traveling to the next town over to charge our phones. We also lucked out in accidentally being among the first to show up at the only open store in town, getting batteries and flashlights before the hordes wiped them out. Schools closed, some for a week in advance, as people began to realize that it takes a lot longer to repair downed branches and wires than it does to shovel snow. Many towns have postponed trick-or-treating until Saturday in the hopes that they'll have power and clear streets restored even then. Utility crews have arrived from across the country, and churches and businesses have been offering food, electricity, shelters, and showers where they can.
We got power back at 1:42 this morning, a pleasant surprise after hearing reports that we wouldn't have it back Friday. I can't imagine how miserable the sub-freezing temperatures must have been for the crew that restored our power at that hour of the night. My school remains closed for the week, leaving me some time to repack the fridge and freezer and catch up on grading that had been superseded by power-outage chores and errands. Our town is still not 100%, and many of the surrounding towns are still almost completely dark. They're struggling to keep up with the growing piles of chopped wood and growing numbers of alternative-heating injuries. Keep New England in your prayers, but throw in some thanksgivings for all those who left and are leaving their warm homes and businesses to keep the rest of us going.
Come morning, we transferred the contents of our fridge and freezer to a cozy little shaded spot in the front yard, where our food has stayed at a steady 32 degrees for the past few days. We were fortunate to have a working gas stove and hot water, but our heat was out. We triple-layered and cuddled with cats to stay warm, traveling to the next town over to charge our phones. We also lucked out in accidentally being among the first to show up at the only open store in town, getting batteries and flashlights before the hordes wiped them out. Schools closed, some for a week in advance, as people began to realize that it takes a lot longer to repair downed branches and wires than it does to shovel snow. Many towns have postponed trick-or-treating until Saturday in the hopes that they'll have power and clear streets restored even then. Utility crews have arrived from across the country, and churches and businesses have been offering food, electricity, shelters, and showers where they can.
We got power back at 1:42 this morning, a pleasant surprise after hearing reports that we wouldn't have it back Friday. I can't imagine how miserable the sub-freezing temperatures must have been for the crew that restored our power at that hour of the night. My school remains closed for the week, leaving me some time to repack the fridge and freezer and catch up on grading that had been superseded by power-outage chores and errands. Our town is still not 100%, and many of the surrounding towns are still almost completely dark. They're struggling to keep up with the growing piles of chopped wood and growing numbers of alternative-heating injuries. Keep New England in your prayers, but throw in some thanksgivings for all those who left and are leaving their warm homes and businesses to keep the rest of us going.