Washington, DC is not only near the Mason-Dixon Line, it’s also near the freeze-thaw line in winter. That means we normally get a few inches of snow or less, which promptly melt and become slushy in some spots and icy in others before the next storm hits a few weeks later. It’s the ice that’s really dangerous, affecting the roads and public transportation, so for the safety of the kids the schools will close or have a delayed start at the first hint of a storm. These closures are broadcast on the local news, one district at a time, but what we’re really watching out for is the federal government. Even if you don’t work for them, most companies in the area run on their schedule.
The storms of February 2010 were different in both their intensity and spacing. “Snowmageddon”, as it was dubbed, became the heaviest snowfall in DC’s history.
The first night, a Friday, started off like any other snowfall: beautiful to watch, fun to walk in, etc. I felt like a kid as I ran across the neighborhood to a friend’s house to watch a movie, only to return home and find the power was out. Candlelight seems so romantic in the movies, until you have cold slush in your hair and no access to a blow dryer. I curled into a ball that night and was grateful for the residual heat of our house until the power came back on the next morning. Others weren’t so lucky, and you quickly discovered the power grid of the neighborhood by whose power was out and for how long.
The next morning, I decided to get my shoveling duty out of the way before breakfast. I picked a heck of a winter to move into a house—on a corner, no less. We’d had so much snow overnight that it took quite some time to dig the full length of my sidewalk, and I was so proud of my work that I ran to grab my camera and take a picture.
That night, the skies cleared up a bit and I explored the neighborhood at sunset. It felt completely transformed, as there were no cars on the roads and people walking everywhere. It was so quiet! I tried cutting through the park, and the snow was so deep that it took longer to get across the field—the shortcut was only shorter in distance.
Sunday morning brought a unique opportunity. We’d had church cancelled the previous week on account of snow—the road to the chapel isn’t plowed in time and there are usually fallen branches. That week the stake president authorized us to hold mini church meetings at designated homes in the neighborhood. Walking to “church” and participating in the Sacrament out of its normal context made me more grateful for things I usually take for granted. Ironically, the Sunday School lesson scheduled for that week was Noah and the Ark—only to be cancelled because of a “flood” of snow. I decided to have my own Sunday School by building a scale model of the story later that week in our front yard. “Snoah and the ark” was built to a scale of 1:30 (1 shovel width = 30 cubits), and I realized just how long the ark was relative to width and height. I also realized how much we talk about emergency preparedness at church, but how few of us really apply those principles until it’s too late.
I’m grateful to say we didn’t run out of food. On the contrary, my roommate and I had more than enough to eat. The problem was that we had too much time on our hands and both love to cook. So while others used the mid-week break in the storm to empty store shelves of bread and milk, we needed whipping cream and other ingredients. I also used the storm as an excuse to stock up on Tim Tams, figuring they’d be useful bargaining chips if it came to it.
The funny thing was how quickly this new experience became normal. We knew we’d get the first day off, but each day after was a pleasant surprise for me. All too soon, my days were booked solid with activities and I made plans with the full expectation of getting Friday off. Some people did, but the rest of us had to report to work for a single day before the holiday weekend.
Here were a few of my highlights from the week:
- visiting the snow cave my friends made
- jumping off our porch into the snow
- going to “Sleeping Beauty” at the Kennedy Center—and nearly getting stranded in the District
- trying to build a snowman ala Calvin and Hobbes (turns out this California girl can’t roll a snowball)
- hiking to Gravelly Point and having the park to myself
- yodeling atop the remnants of the “glacier field” created in a local parking lot
When I tell my grandchildren about the DC chapter of my life, I won’t tell them about Obama’s inauguration—I’ll tell them about the week we had 4 days off of work because of snow.
