by Camelia Elliott
We have experience being “snowed in” but this was a first for being “snowed out”.
On Tuesday night, my husband carried in a lot of wood for the wood burning stove. He filled two, thirty-three gallon containers and four, five-gallon buckets. With predictions of a blizzard, he didn’t know if he’d be able to make it back home after work on Wednesday since he commutes to Roanoke. After he left on Wednesday, I decided to bring in more wood and brought in all of the wood we had on the porch. He did get stranded in Roanoke until Friday. We are thankful for good friends who let him stay at their home.
By Wednesday night, it was snowing hard and fast and accumulations were neatly stacking up on the porch railing. It was a beautiful sight. Since moving to Virginia, I have been intrigued by snow that stacks up. In Texas, it always blew from side to side, accompanied by high winds. I had never seen snow stack up like this.
I frequently opened the front and back doors to prevent being trapped inside of the house. But during the night, massive amounts of snow were dumped on our front and back porches. By Friday, over two feet of snow blocked the front and back doors. I could not get out either door. I was literally snow in. I thought, “There is no telling how long it will take Jim to ‘shovel into the house’ before he can get in the door, that is when he can actually drive home.”
On Friday, he decided to attempt to come home. I checked the Internet to see if 221, going up Bent Mountain, was open. Mud slides were reported and one site stated that it was closed. I called VDOT and they verified that it was open.
By Friday, my wood supply was nearly depleted. I could not turn on the heat pump because it was buried and would have burned out the motor. It would have been a nearly impossible chore for me to actually be able to get to the woodshed.
By the time my husband finally arrived, I had added my last stick of wood to the stove. I was sure happy to see him! What a great Valentine’s Day surprise. It took him two and a half hours to get home. Then he had the chore of “digging into the house”.
One of my Facebook friend’s comment was so true “Welcome Home Honey. Here’s your Shovel!”
All in all, I made the best of the situation and accomplished a lot of quilting.
After hearing my great-aunt Christine Vest’s stories about the blizzard during the 1960’s, where she told of approximately eighty-five inches of accumulation, after snowing every night for six weeks, where the snow reached the top of the telephone poles, what do I have to complain about?