A Little Snow, A Little Ice

It snowed three times in the five days leading up to Christmas. Our local weather service predicted their standard one to three inches each time, yet somehow, by Christmas morning, we had accumulated almost 16 inches. I just love a white Christmas, don't you?

Snow is a gift, a truly beautiful part of God's creation. There is something magical about watching those pristine, frozen flakes drift lazily to the ground--or swirl fiercely through the air when the wind is raging. I like to trudge through the deepening snow, enveloped in the silence of the storm, snowflakes brushing softly against my face. I love the way the wind sculpts the snow into modern art along the fence rows that border our country roads. And there is nothing whiter than new-fallen snow, dazzling in the sunlight, the day after a storm.

The fence rows near Chimney Rock, after the storm

Many of us have a love-hate relationship with snow. I never met a young child who doesn't love to frolic in the snow, playing king of the hill or fox and geese, or making snow angels and snowballs and snowmen. Sledding and skiing are multi-generational sports. Even adults thrill at the thought of a cozy snow day, when they can stay home in front of a blazing fire, sipping hot cocoa and reading a good book.

But, unfortunately, when the storm is over, there is work to be done. Snowblowers are fired up and shovels are brought out of the garage. We have the good fortune of living on a double-wide, corner lot. Normally, we love the extra outdoor space, but not after a snowstorm, when the snow must be removed from all of the sidewalks, as well as the driveway.

When the snowblower is broken, Levi and Bill have to shovel.

And then, there is the ice. In our community, only the emergency snow routes are plowed, leaving the side streets packed with snow, which melts a little bit each day and freezes again into treacherous, uneven ruts as soon as the sun goes down. On those warm, winter days, when the temperature flirts with 50 degrees, the streets become rivers with no place for the water to go, because the sparse sewer grates are inevitably covered with sheets of ice. On those evenings, the streets freeze into virtual skating rinks.

As a child, I liked to ice skate in the Norfolk city parks, where whole parking lots were purposely flooded to provide free skating rinks for the neighborhood kids to enjoy all winter long. When we moved to Fairbury, there were no skating rinks in the parks, so I was forced to improvise, donning my white, double-bladed, shoe skates, and skating around and around the small patch of smooth ice that formed, behind the hotel, under the downspout that drained the second floor washing machine into an open, iron grate next to the alley.

Ice skating is one thing, but slipping and sliding on the glassy streets, whether on foot or in my car, is not my idea of a good time.

This week, we were blessed with a few nice days, warm enough to melt much of the ice in our streets, just in time for another snow storm. This time, the weather forecasters predicted a near-blizzard, with eight to twelve inches of new snow.  In anticipation of the impending storm, Bill took some time yesterday to repair our snowblower. We awoke this morning to snowy skies, as expected. But, this time, we ended up with only three inches of new snow on our unplowed, residential streets.

I guess I should mention that our winter weather forecasts, here in Scotts Bluff County, are rarely accurate, probably due to the various prominent land formations dotting our landscape. But one thing never changes: any amount of new snow inevitably leads to more ice on our streets.

Happy skating!

For to the snow (God) says, "Fall on the earth." 

Job 37:6a