Yesterday, about noon, the first flakes of snow began falling when Mom and I were at the Miamisburg Taco Bell for lunch as is our usual Sunday habit. Within an hour the snow quit and all was quiet again for the bulk of the day.
By late evening we began having freezing rain and sleet. As the day ended the snow began to fall. It was in earnest for a short while. I awoke during the night (3 am) and looked out the bathroom window. All was white. But I could easily make out the top of the well head so I knew the snow wasn't very deep. Like March 6, the trees were festooned with feathers of white, a surreal sight in the dark of the night.
This morning I measured 0.54" in the gauge. The snow depth is a mere 3.5", far less than predicted (upwards of 10" was thought possible). But it was enough to bring out the snow plows and enough to close area schools and businesses.
Our meadow, to the north of the house, is layered deep in snow which clings to even the smallest branches. I suppose the freezing rain, just prior to the snow, gave the snow a surface to adhere to. Though there is actually little snow, you could not easily walk through this jumble.
To the west of the henhouse (and looking west), the pines hang heavy with snow. A week from today is the first of April. Does this seem possible when viewing this scene?
The south side of Pinehaven presents a lovely contrast with the warm shade of brick and the cold white of the snow. I suspect I'll be mowing within another two weeks.
Walking out to S. Clayton Road and looking across the field to the Shell Farm, corn stubble protrudes through the snow cover and all seems deep in winter slumber. The roads are clear, though, and school might have easily been held.
Pinehaven is nestled in a blanket of white. That top window on the left is my bedroom window and I pulled the curtain aside at 3 am as a snow plow made a path, first south, and then returned north ten minutes later. I could see the trunks of the catalpas and I knew the snow was not very deep.
Finally, here is "Dad's redbud". He loved this species and I thought when I planted this one, it would serve as a vivid spring memory of my father. The snow holds delicately to every branch; a breath of wind would dislodge much of it in mere minutes.
So, here we are at the end of March with winter returned. As a side note, a year ago, from March 13 through March 23, we warmed every day into at least the 70's and topped out at 84°. A year ago yesterday it was 67°. Now this.