a.k.a. V.J.

Old Man Stuff


Snow

My hometown got namechecked on ABC News the other day because of the weeklong snowstorm we’ve been experiencing. Not much happens in this burg, but we do have a history of national news outlets reporting on our blizzards. I guess it’s better than being one of those cities that only get news coverage for persistently high crime rates or rampant political corruption, but only marginally.

Not to come off as blasé, but TV news notwithstanding, this storm bas been pretty run-of-the-mill as these lake-effect blizzards go. We got a lot of snow dumped on us in a short time, but that’s nothing new for us. I think the reason for all the attention this time was our weather was part of a widespread system all across the Great Lakes, and our county still managed to get the worst of it.

I live right on the line of the darkest red blotch on the map. Those forecasted totals wound up being wildly conservative, by the way.

At any rate, the pattern of these “weather events” is predictable: cold air from Canada moves across the relatively warm water of the Great Lakes (Lake Ontario specifically, in my area), which, through the miracles of science, generates large quantities of snow. Depending on the angle of the wind, your town might get hit with Snowmageddon, while areas just a few miles away are untouched. Over the course of a longer storm, shifting winds tend to angle the snow bands around like someone watering a lawn with a garden hose. So, if you were spared one day, you might get it the next. Or you might have alternating periods during the same day of whiteouts and clear skies. That might sound weird to someone who grew up outside the Snow Belt, but it’s just part of the rhythm of the season around here.

Here are a few shots of our snowy New Year:

Whiteouts are terrifying if you have to drive in one, but just standing out during an intense lake-effect snowfall can an incredibly peaceful experience. The large volume of fluffy snow in the air absorbs sound. It feels and looks almost dreamlike.
Step one: dig a path to your car. Step two: brush off the car. Step three: spend five minutes shoveling the snow that came off the car out of the driveway. Step four: you’re still not going anywhere until you take care of the thigh-deep wall of snow at the mouth of the driveway. Step five: Happy motoring!
The dogs plunged headlong into this snowbank and instantly regretted it.
The annual tradition of city plows burying our mailbox.
The storm has passed, but our shovels stand ever at the ready.



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About Me

Researcher. Marketer. Teacher. Father of adult children and dogs. 20th Century holdover. Central New York native. Long-suffering Buffalo Bills fan. History nerd. Traveler. Vintage advertising enthusiast. Hat wearer.

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