Let it Snow...I think

Snow is falling on the Chicken Ranch. The powdered sugar coating has already improved the dulled winter appearance of the yard and fields. The white cottony fluff falls from the sky gently, quietly. The fox squirrel in an ancient maple tree near the house sits contentedly and doesn't seem to mind that the snow powders his red bushy tail white. Birds seek shelter in the bushes and hedge but are lively upon the branches.

The mild Midwest winter that we have had so far this year has produced no significant snowfall. We had blizzard conditions a few weeks ago because of the strong winds accompanying the snow, but the depth was minimal. This will not be a snow like the blizzard of 2011.That was a time when the Chicken Ranch saw a real snow. Well, for this part of the country anyway.

In February 2011 forecasters predicted accurately that a massive snowstorm was bearing down on the Midwest. Estimated levels of accumulation expected, depending on your source of information, were from 10-20 inches or more. Winds were expected to reach gusts of 50-60 miles per hour. Prudent citizens immediately made preparations for the storm by stocking up on groceries, bottled water, flashlight batteries and the like. Folks chattered to each other about the latest forecasts as they cleaned the store shelves of goods. And as seems to be the nature of these conversations, each persons prediction was topped by one more dire. " I just heard 20 inches by this time tomorrow..." " Channel 20 just said 24 inches with 65 mile per hour winds..." and so on. Simply bad will never do while terrible is available for use.

Out in the countryside livestock farmers pushed to bring in herds closer to feeding areas and made sure days of feed were close at hand. Everyone wanted to be settled in by the afternoon, when the weather was predicted to turn mean. At the Chicken Ranch I moved feeders to the inside of the hen house and added extra straw to the floor. The chickens were clucking excitedly as I worked. (It occurred to me that their conversation sounded a lot like the one I overheard in the grocery store in town). It was though the hens felt a significant change coming in the air around them. With the rest of the animals cared for, I began to split wood for the fireplace. Utility outages were likely and the fireplace would serve as both physical and visual comfort. After a couple of hours of splitting and carrying wood to the hearth, I felt ready for the storm.

Late in the afternoon the snow began to fall. Large fluffy flakes fell gently at first, then picked up speed as the wind began to blow. Before long, the snow was driving so hard it was not possible to see past 50 yards. The howl of the wind voiced the storm's intention of making this a winters night to remember. Soon everything was covered in white. The pines and cedars were bowing and swaying to the pressure of the pelting snow. The wind side of the trees was frosted like cupcake icing. The ground grew thick with snow cover. Then the drifts began to build.

As the moaning, swirling winds pushed from the northwest, the snow piled in behind spaces sheltered from it. In the light of the porch we watched as a drift 20 feet long erected itself minute by minute to a final height of 5 feet. On the south porch the snow had to be constantly pushed back from blocking the door, as the drift there reached above 36 inches high. This storm was determined to live up to its billing. As I stood outside, I watched and heard the effect of the wind and snow as limbs bent and cracked.Whirlwinds of snow blew from roof tops and formed drifts along the edges. Power lines swayed like swings.Then, later in the evening, the lights went out.

Kerosene lanterns were lit and placed in rooms.The fire in the fireplace was stoked. The room would softly brighten and dim with each flicker from the lantern and fireplace flames. The burning wood and faint smoke from the lamps filled the living room and den with the aroma of yesteryear, of a time when this form of lighting was common in homes. It was not an inconvenience for me. It was somehow peaceable, warming. I enjoyed the soft light in the rooms. Then the snow and howling wind finally began to slow, and after one more inspection of the doors, we headed off to bed.

The dawn found the Chicken Ranch under an average of 15 inches of snow and drifts over 6 feet high. Some of the drifts exceeded fifty feet in length. It took some digging, and a couple days of waiting for some assistance, to get things moving again. Mountains of snow piled high during removal efforts would last for weeks to come.

Yes, the “blizzard of ‘11” was a powerful demonstration of Momma Natures wintertime capabilities. This snow? Well, it's in the junior leagues. Pretty, gentle and quiet. And, really, this time, that's just fine with me.