Walked
out onto my deck today. During a recent snowfall that left a moderate
accumulation, I had gone out with a shovel to clear the way to
my grill. Didn’t do a particularly spectacular job, more or less
just cleaning a path about six feet long and two feet wide by
tossing the snow into a pile a few feet away. But now, what’s
left of that pile is the only snow in my yard.
Anyone
that has ever dealt with melting snow has seen it. The last remnants.
When
you clear out the driveway, it’s found where you tossed the snow.
Drifts in corners. Piles hiding and untouched by the sun. Batches
of dirty snow shoved to the side by plows. And as the temperatures
rise and the sun shines and days move along, the snow melts away,
leaving the remains. More days pass and the piles get smaller,
but the remains remain.
In
many places, snow piles present a real issue. Where do you put
them? Ever seen a parking lot after a storm brings significant
accumulation? The lot gets plowed and a huge mound appears off
to its side. I’ve lived in towns where trucks brought snow to
a bridge, were they were met by loaders and other heavy equipment
that took it out of the truck and tossed it into the river. Many
municipalities have dedicated places where the snow is placed.
One
year in Boston—2015 if you want to research it—the last of the
snow melted in July. July 14th to be specific. They called it
a snow farm, and as it melted they found things like storm drain
covers and fire hydrants. (Not kidding. Go look it up.)
Snow
can be a funny thing. It can disappear with a whisper. Delicate
and dusty, with barely a breath clearing a windshield. And it
can hang around. Heavy and piled, and in a few hours it disappears.
Some
of us have experienced those days when you go out to clear a walkway
and feel like you were shoveling water. It’s a joy. You dig in,
lug away a heavy scoop, and look back to see a steady stream rushing
in to cover the space. (One of the thrills here is knowing you’ve
moved the snow, only to create a skating rink.)
Feels
like every storm is slightly different. Just factors like temperature
and wind can completely change how hard you need to work to uncover
cars and open up driveways.
Now
up until this point, I’ve shared a few things that are true of
my yard, but in reality likely don’t reflect too much new information
to those that live around snow in the winter. Spend enough time
outside with a snowplow, and you know the differences offered
up by stepping outside to work in 32-degrees or opening the door
to 1-degree. And that’s what leads me to a bit of a twist.
This
year has been different than most in the northeast. In many areas,
the majority of snow arrived after March 1st. Just about all of
those places are going to fall significantly short of a normal
level of annual accumulation totals. I haven’t been outside with
shovels and snowblowers as much as usual, which has not led to
a heightened desire to use them when the opportunity has come
around. Honestly, the less I’m using them, the more I’m finding
myself motivated to continue not using them.
This
brings about interesting questions when the snow falls. Can I
get out of the driveway in this? Do I really need to go out and
shovel? What’s the forecast for the next few days and how long
is this likely to stick around?
When
the ground is warmer and the snow is going to be gone by 2 that
afternoon, I don’t know many people that head outside as the sun
rises to work on snow removal. All of which makes it especially
noticeable when snow remains on the deck after a few days in the
mid-40s.
The
same amount of snow could fall on two different days, and our
reaction might be completely different. And that’s what becomes
so striking. This isn’t about how snow in Florida causes nightmares
unheard of in Vermont. It is about the differences and developments
outside the same window. What seems to cause massive icicles on
one day delivers no such sights weeks later.
Nature
is mysterious and breathtaking. We use words to express what we
perceive to be regular, repetitive occurrences. But the truth
is, nothing from nature is regular or repetitive. We can learn
lessons and make predictions, but there will always be slight
variations. Even when all we’re doing is watching the snow melt.