We aren’t in Vermont any more, Toto…
OUR BIG SNOW came and went and from where I sat, it was just another day, although quieter than most.
I was ready. No special runs the grocery store needed. I lived in Vermont for 11 years and it changed how I view winter. First, until the snowfall passes six inches, it’s just a dusting.
Being ready for snow in Vermont was just a part of life from November to April when a few feet of snow will fall, pile up, melt a bit then pile up some more.
I had two woodstoves we heated with most of the time in winter, and up to five cords on wood to go with it. I had oil lamps, flashlights and a snow shovel in the back of the car. The pantry was always stocked.
That’s pretty much how I have approached even living in an apartment. I don’t have wood stoves so if the heat goes out, I will have to toss on a fleece or an extra blanket. But, I’ve got my camping gear based on off-the-grid camping. That includes a sleeping bag, several battery-powered light sources, a solar/plug-in charger that will keep a phone and iPad powered, trail head lamps.
There was little doubt by Friday that this was going to be a pretty big storm by Mid-Atlantic standards. It was coming after 5.5 inches of soft snow the weekend before. It arrived overnight Saturday. When I got up Sunday morning there probably were four or five inches down and it was not the fluffy stuff of the weekend before but tiny flakes, wet.
The big fear was freezing rain, which weighs down tree limbs and power lines, hence the concern about power outages. Never happened. Just before noon – earlier than expected – the snow stopped and it turned to sleet and so it stayed the rest of the day. The freezing rain never happened so the power stayed on.
That meant I had a pretty nice day of reading, napping, chatting with friends down in our lounge area and watching football. Enforced quiet and solitude.
Of course, I miss Vermont. I miss my woodstoves and I even miss moving snow with my big snow thrower and scoop. I particularly miss the day after a big storm when the skies turn deep blue and I could go over to Okemo Mountain or Killington and stand on a mountaintop looking for miles out into the face of beauty then make first tracks down the mountain.
Here? In a town in the Mid-Atlantic? Alas, beyond the moments of solitude, the first blush of whiteness on the land, winter is mostly a pain in the ass. Location, location, location…..
Rich Heiland is a retired journalist and semi-retired consultant, trainer and public speaker. During his journalism career he was a reporter, editor, publisher, college instructor, part of a Pulitzer Prize-winning team and a National Newspaper Association Columnist of the Year honoree. He lives in West Chester, PA and can be reached at [email protected].