At some point going down the temperature continuum between 33 and 31 degrees, the water molecule does an amazing thing. It transforms from a thirst-quenching, plant-growing, wonder liquid into a road-slickening, tree-branch bending, school-closing solid. Without getting too deep into the chemistry of it all, this is what happened here at our farmhouse Sunday. Water crystalized, fell from the sky, and landed on us.
It landed on Plymouths:
It landed on Fords:
It landed on pickup trucks…
…and a Nash!
The snow began falling at 9:30 Sunday morning. Wife and I were heading out the door to a baby shower an hour west- right in the direction the storm was coming from. A few lonely flakes fluttered innocently from the gray sky. The weatherman had proclaimed “one to two inches” were to be expected. When we returned from the pre-baby party around 3 that afternoon, our faithful four-wheel-drive was crunching through better than 7 inches of it.
And then, as if a 300% under-forecast of snow weren’t enough, the temperature waaaaay up in the stratosphere (or wherever it is that snow gets formed) rose above that magical water/ice point, but the temperature down here in farmhouse land stayed below freezing. For those of you with at least a rudimentary understanding of meteorology, this means we got ice pellets, on top of the snow.
Sadie sure didn’t seem to mind, though.
The snowy, icy mess persisted into Monday morning. Fortunately, everything I had to do for work I was able to accomplish from the leather chair downstairs from where I woke up this morning. I don’t mind driving in snow…but ice?
The temperature here finally crawled up into the mid 30’s this afternoon, so after finishing work I went out and constructed scale models of our little family in the available frozen medium:
The weatherman opened up his mis-predicting yap again tonight and predicted “up to five inches” of more snow tomorrow. Will we actually get 15 inches? Will fire rain down from above? Locusts? Frogs?
As long as we don’t get any more freaking ice.