The snow hole
The big one was coming. Blizzard 2013. On that fancy map where the overanxious weathermen color-code the zones and display the predicted snowfall measurements, we were nestled comfortably in the 4 to 8-inch area. Nice.
Thursday evening came, and the rain that had been falling for four days straight (praise, praise the Lord) turned into ginormous snowflakes. Reports we caught on the news said that some places were seeing a few inches fall within half an hour. Oh yeah, bring on the vegetable soup and board games, baby.
Of course the children are aware of the predictions, and as the night progresses, they become almost unbearable, checking out the window every few minutes and begging to go out in the pitch black. Then Brandon joins in the unbearability upon learning he will not have to venture out to school on Friday, either.
So we watch and wait, and while the snow falls heavily and steadily and does mostly cover the ground, there is no pileup. At all. It seems to sort of...disappear. And then, even before we all turned in for the night, it was over. Just like that.
The, um, experts are calling our area a snow hole. Yes, that is the actual technical term they are using for this long skinny rectangle of land running along the eastern base of the Blue Ridge that got little to nothing from the storm. Just east and west of us, some places got a foot. We got what can loosely be termed a covering.
But to my sweet boys who so very rarely see snow, it may as well have been a blizzard. With excitement rivaling that of any Christmas morning, we embarked upon the half-hour long process of suiting up to go out and play in one lowly ice-crusted inch of snow. And you know what? Even though by the end of our outdoor trek we were covered more with mud than the white stuff, it was well worth it.
Snow hole or not, we'll take what we can get.
Thursday evening came, and the rain that had been falling for four days straight (praise, praise the Lord) turned into ginormous snowflakes. Reports we caught on the news said that some places were seeing a few inches fall within half an hour. Oh yeah, bring on the vegetable soup and board games, baby.
Of course the children are aware of the predictions, and as the night progresses, they become almost unbearable, checking out the window every few minutes and begging to go out in the pitch black. Then Brandon joins in the unbearability upon learning he will not have to venture out to school on Friday, either.
So we watch and wait, and while the snow falls heavily and steadily and does mostly cover the ground, there is no pileup. At all. It seems to sort of...disappear. And then, even before we all turned in for the night, it was over. Just like that.
The, um, experts are calling our area a snow hole. Yes, that is the actual technical term they are using for this long skinny rectangle of land running along the eastern base of the Blue Ridge that got little to nothing from the storm. Just east and west of us, some places got a foot. We got what can loosely be termed a covering.
But to my sweet boys who so very rarely see snow, it may as well have been a blizzard. With excitement rivaling that of any Christmas morning, we embarked upon the half-hour long process of suiting up to go out and play in one lowly ice-crusted inch of snow. And you know what? Even though by the end of our outdoor trek we were covered more with mud than the white stuff, it was well worth it.
Snow hole or not, we'll take what we can get.
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