The weather can at times be fairly unpredictable, even with the best weather forecast dudes and lassies. They predict some rain and we get showered upon! Then it’s a little wind and we get the evil twins Irene and Sandy. In fairness, they get it right most times.
What I don’t get is the names they give these forces of nature. Neither Irene or Sandy sound scary, but they were freaks of nature hitting the East Coast hard. It would be more appropriate to call these bitches something more thrilling like Myra (Hindley) or Aileen (Wuornos).
The latest venture in assigning scary names to storms came when the East Coast (again) were victims of a freak snow blizzard. This storm was named after the awesome and yet scary Nemo.
Seriously!? They named a snow blizzard causing havoc after a small clown fish!
Just a bit of background; ever since moving to the US, we have been wishing for proper snow and had only been awarded with a few flurry days, but nothing serious. Be careful what you wish for!
Oh well, as with the other storms that hit the East Coast, we prepared to be dumped on by a small fish, stockpiling water, preparing food and bringing in firewood. Nemo was meant to hover over us for about 24 hours, and we were in the approx. 2 feet snow zone.
Gently Nemo “attacked” its prey, sprinkling between 1-2 feet of snow on our neighborhood. I’m sure some got it worse, but for us it was utterly amazing.
Everything had been covered with huge quantities of snow and we were dying to go into the puffy snow to play. No point going anywhere in the car when we had our own obstacle course by the house.
Saturday morning exercise consisted of building a bobsled rank for the kids, clear the pathways to the house and part of the driveway. Despite the cold temperatures, sweat was building up underneath my thermos top and three layers of woollen underwear – heck, I’m not used to these cold snaps yet.
Kids were screaming as they flew down the home made rank, while I was digging out the car and conducting CPR to get it back to life.
As I were clearing the snow from the driveway, it was obvious that the Beast wouldn’t be able to come out to play this weekend. Rear-wheel + no weight at the back = fishtails! I already knew then, that I would have to clear the entire driveway before going to work Monday morning, it was just a matter when.
Our St Bernard, who one would think was born in snow-covered mountains in Switzerland and would treasure moments in the snow, was somewhat reluctant at getting into the belly high snow in the garden. I don’t really blame her, given she has to squat to pee and it must be awful cold.
All the neighbors had also risen early that morning; all moving snow manually and some of the more posh residents had snow-blowers or paid someone to do it for them.
Still not sure why they named it Nemo. Still not sure why snow has this magical appearance. Still not sure why I turn into a kid whenever snow arrives, and the first thing that pops into my mind is snowball fight!
Sunday morning arrived. It was now or never, and the sun was not going to provide enough heat to melt over a feet of snow.
I filled the thermos cup with nice warm espresso and dressed like a lumberjack while humming “hi ho, hi ho, la la lala la la” … couldn’t remember the lyrics.
DAMN! The snow had solidified during the night and was now this massive sheet of snow/ice. Each time I forced the shovel into a pile, it was like hitting rock-hard surface. The trimmers moved through move arms to my shoulders. It was clear! I’m not made for physical labour. I would give everything now to get someone to do it for, but nobody around for miles.
I soldiered on and move the snow/ice inch by inch. After the first hour, a quarter of the driveway had been cleared. I was going nowhere for the next three hours, so kept at it.
After a few more hours, the drive had been cleared just enough for the beast to be able to get out, but my poor office hands had suffered. Blisters had started to take shape and I was sore in most joints. Damn you Nemo!!
How did you survive Nemo?