Yesterday, I went down to my building in Tremonton to determine if any kind soul had shoveled the snow on my sidewalk. No. It was over 15 inches deep. The snow had stopped, so I began to shovel. And great huge snowflakes began to fall. They fell so fast and so thick that I could not shovel fast enough. Before I was done with the 52 feet of my sidewalk frontage, over 17 inches of heavy, wet snow had fallen. Yesterday. Added to the 9 inches the day before and the 6 inches the day before, and the amounts that fell through the night of our three-day storm.
Seriously?
The piles of snow now encircle my house and yard. You cannot see the cars going by. We walk through walls of snow to get to the road, or drive it.
Now, I have visited New Hampshire in the winter when the snow reached the second story windows and we walked through walls of snow. I expected that in the New Hampshire mountains. Not on the Utah desert where SEVEN inches of rainfall a year was the norm.
At least there is little wind. No tornadoes. No tornadoes.
The power went off for three hours–while I was shoveling snow elsewhere and getting extra keys made, and other errands. As you can see-it is back on again. And I have connection to the internet. Cable television has been off for three days.
So I read the weather report in the newspaper–newspaper delivery still coming (my son delivers the paper and he is super diligent and reliable). And on the side of my computer I have a small strip which includes the weather. Today it says 28 degrees, storm warning (in red), 86% humidity, and no precipitation. Well, in our three-day snow storm, that little weather device has gone from 100% humidity to 98%, and now 86%–and always no precipitation. Ha! Ha! Ha!
Did you know that snow muffles all sounds? It is very silent outside. And inside for that matter. If you open the door, you can hear the engines of snow blowers, and perhaps the sounds of chipping ice and scraping wet snow. But the sounds are faint–even when you can see your neighbors at work.
So I declare this snow deal as “a lot worse.” And the drains are still covered in snow–now 7 feet deep where the snow has been piled on top of them. Go figure.
I have heat, and lights, and water. And no tornadoes. I am okay. Your favorite genealogist, Arlene Eakle http://arleneeakle.com.
PS We are getting closer to the launch of my new blog, “Be of Good Cheer.” You won’t want to miss the inaugural issue–the robots on our dairy farm that milk the cows. With pictures. And a huge hawk (maybe an eagle) supervising the whole operation. With pictures. Stay tuned!