Thirty-seven centimetres! According to the Environment Canada this was the most snowfall for a single day since 1938, when the department started keeping records.
And it’s not even officially winter yet. I guess somebody forgot to tell Mother Nature as she let her flurries of unending snow fly all over us in Lanark County.
Can anyone say “My shovel isn’t big enough?”
As a relative newbie to snowy winters, I kept going to the windows and giving my weather update to anyone who would listen (Peter, the dog and cat). My updates were kind of boring, though, when all I could say was “It’s still snowing!” How many of you were giving the same weather reports?
The good news for me is there are just as many of you out there that have never seen this much snow in one day in your life. Finally, I’m not the odd woman out – this is a new one for plenty of us.
Once the wonder of when-is-it-going-to-stop-snowing wore off, the reality hit me, as it probably did everyone else. The reality of “Uh-oh, how are we going to get rid of all this snow so we can get out of the driveway?”
Snow shovels just seemed like teaspoons at the time. We knew we’d be dead or frozen before we were able to get anywhere near our cars or the end of our seemingly endless driveway.
Chip, our chocolate Lab, was very confused when he went out for his constitutionals. The snow is just past his neck, which doesn’t give much turning or running room. Our backyard quickly became a snow labyrinth, with doggie pit-stops at certain points. Chip has not once been outside his personal maze. At least he knows where he’s going now, and we don’t have to worry about a leash for once.
And then there’s Wick. Last winter, Wick enjoyed the snow. Well, as much as a cat can enjoy anything. After Sunday’s snowfall, she’s seemingly terrified of going out and never being seen again. And she’d be right. The snow is deep enough that when she’s in the middle of it, we have no cat. Unless you count the terrified meows of “Where is my house?” coming from her furry throat.
There was even a rabbit that decided to hang out near my office window, where the snow wasn’t as deep. You have to wonder about it all when a burrowing animal is looking for the shallows.
Then one of Lanark County’s best traits came out. Great neighbours with tractors that know they’ll never see us again unless they come dig us out. That’s just what Harvey Drummond did for us, what he does for us every time we’re buried in the snow. He shows up on his tractor and starts moving the snow, often before we’re even aware he’s there.
Harvey is like an angel, just doing what comes naturally in his kindness. He won’t accept any form of payment, takes our heart-felt thank you’s and appreciation with a careless wave as he motors away on his rumbly tractor.
I hope all of you have a Harvey in your life. If not for snow, then for some other task that you didn’t know you needed an angel for. Because that’s what Harvey is. Our own personal snow angel.
