The View from the North Pole

So, the Blizzard of ’78 is no longer “The Blizzard”. It has been eclipsed by the Blizzard of ’26, delivering even more snow, though thanks to cell phones, social media, and more accurate weather predictions, people were much more prepared for it this time. It’s interesting that both blizzards, 48 years apart, happened on a Monday in February. In the grim winter of 2015, it seemed like it snowed, hard, every Monday.

This blizzard came with a miracle as far as I’m concerned. We did not lose power at our house during the storm, though we fully expected that to happen. Nor did I see any fallen trees or branches. We’ve lost power for far less. I have the greatest sympathy for all those who did lose power. That’s a terrible situation to be in, trapped in your house with no heat.

 It’s long been a thing to scoff at the accuracy of weather predictions on TV.  But comparing the coverage of these two blizzards almost 50 years apart shows the dramatic progress in more accurately predicting the weather, with the advance of meteorological science and technology. Still, the weather continues to be fickle and hard to predict. But in this February’s mega-snowstorm, thanks to advance blizzard warnings and state travel bans in place ahead of time, very few people got stranded in their cars on streets and highways, unlike the ’78 blizzard.

If you compare photos from the two events, you’ll see that the snow-packed streets of ‘78 were littered with cars, trucks and buses stuck in the snow at the height of the blizzard, unlike this February. My favorite photo from the Blizzard of ‘78 is an overhead shot of I-195 showing the highway cleared right up to the state line in Rhode Island, where the Massachusetts plows stopped and turned around.

I had moved to New England about a year before “The Blizzard” but was still living in Providence then, conveniently about a mile from work. I didn’t have to cope with the traffic disaster and could walk home, though walking in a blizzard wasn’t easy either. There are so many stories about being stranded in the blizzard that it has been become part of New England folklore. Now young people who have grown up listening to (and probably getting tired of hearing about) that ‘78 event will have their own stories to tell their children.

Three feet of snow, as measured at T.F. Green Airport in Warwick on Feb. 23, is a lot of snow. Even two feet of snow, on top of a foot of snow already on the ground, is way too much. Our backyard bird feeder is not that close to the house and snow drifts are blocking the way. We joke about tying a rope between the porch steps and the bird feeder pole, like some farmer out on the prairie trying to get from the house to the barn without get blown away or lost in a white-out.

Those white-outs are something to behold (not that you can even see across the street) and can be very scary. My definition of a blizzard is when you can’t see out your windows because they are encrusted with windblown snow and ice on all four sides of the house.

When will it all melt? Depends on whether you mean the snow in your yard or those dirty mountain-size piles in parking lots that are sometimes referred to as Mt. Slushmore. But not soon enough is the answer. And as we all know, tempers will get more frayed as the very difficult clean-up continues. In 2015 (the most recent winter from Hell) the last of the pond ice disappeared around April 5, if I recall. I wouldn’t be looking for crocus or daffodils the first day of spring. And I don’t want to hear any more about a drought once two or three feet of snow finally melts.

I usually enjoy March even if winter is lingering, because it feels like spring is finally on the way. The increased light in the evening (yay, daylight savings time) is a mood-booster. But this year it’s going to take a while to get that March feeling of uplift. As the poet Percy Shelley once hopefully observed, “If winter comes, can spring be far behind?” It sure feels like the answer is “yes” this year.