Late Season Snowstorm

 This is reminiscent of 1956. On this date (March 6) my brother was born and Mom remembers fondly getting him home; about three days later Miamisburg had a big snowstorm. "Dad took trash down to the back of the yard and Mrs. Weekly was there to help with Bob. There was snow everywhere," Mom said.

 That's a good description of now. When I went to bed last evening it was raining and I felt sure the heavy snow that was predicted had missed us, that the storm was spending itself out with rain before it got cold enough to snow. I went to bed at 9:15 pm.

 When I awoke at midnight I walked into the second floor bathroom, looked out the window and was astounded. The maple that's closest to the window was flocked with thick, heavy snow. I turned on my desk light (which flickered) and immediately drew a bucket of water in case the power went out. I walked downstairs to tell Mom about the storm.

 She crawled out of bed and hobbled to the south living room window. What a sight! All was quiet; all was buried in a deep blanket of white.

 I walked to the back door and turned on the garage light. This is what I saw.

This maple, nearest the kitchen, was festooned in thick white. It was snowing heavily. Later, when I got back into bed, the security webcam recorded the flakes falling (below).

 This morning all is a winter wonderland.

 This view is towards the northwest. Our pines are buried deep in snow and the branches hang low with the added weight.

 From a second floor window looking north, our woodpile is buried deep in snow. Luckily we do not use it much. It serves mostly as a back-up source of heat should our power be interrupted.

 While Mom did the breakfast dishes, this male cardinal visited the suet feeder hanging right outside the window. When the snow is deep, we've trained birds to be dependent on what we offer. Whether that's a good thing or not, I don't know.

 On our back porch, a close-up shot of a maple branch shows how deeply it is covered with snow. When the snow began, the branches were wet with the late-day rain and snow flakes stuck handily.

 This maple branch, outside the kitchen window, split with the added weight and is lying on the ground. Ah, more work when the snow melts.

 A view of the south side of Pinehaven (facing east) shows the maple by the bathroom window pressing up against the house. This is the tree I saw when I looked out the window at midnight. The heat pump's compressor is blasted with ice and snow, probably lowering its efficiency quite a bit. I'll go back out later and brush it off.

 Here's a view out our driveway, facing east towards S. Clayton Road. I suppose the car would run in the snow but there are plenty of low-hanging branches that will need to be moved (or cut) first. At the moment, we're trapped.

 A front view of Pinehaven might make a nice Christmas card next year. The two evergreens on either side of the fireplace chimney are pushed down by the weight of the snow. The one on the left, at the window where I normally sit, covers the glass. It's a bit startling to look up and see something standing there from inside.

 Will we have mail delivery? I doubt it. The mail box and the newspaper tube will probably go unused.

 From our driveway and looking southeast, another maple seems broken down by the added weight. The road, as you can see, has been mostly cleared of the snow. I heard a plow during the night and saw the flashing lights slide across my bedroom ceiling and walls and knew the necessary work was being done while I slept.

 Looking west along the driveway, yet another limb is down. Maples seem particularly frail when weight is added. There is much clean-up to do.

 Our DirecTV dish is so deep in snow that it won't work. I'll have to remember to go back out and brush it clear. It's almost hard to tell what it is.

 Looking up into a maple, it's a pretty sight ... but a deadly one if the weight breaks any more branches.

 First order of business this morning was to dig a path to my rain gauge and bring it in for a reading. The numbers are due at 8 a.m. and I take this job very seriously. I've been keeping daily weather statistics since April 1, 1974. I'm just a few weeks away from 39 years.

 The north side of our house, facing east, makes a pretty winter scene. It's hard to believe that two weeks from today, it'll be spring. Who'd guess that right now?