In truth, the standstill began well before the system moved in. On Thursday night, Newton cancelled schools pre-emptively, essentially giving us a three-day weekend. And though I arrived at work a little late on Friday (10 am instead of my usual 8:45, owing to the school cancellation) I was greeted with a scattering of cars in the parking lot, many of which were parked facing outwards. No doubt their owners were ready for a speedy departure once the first snowflake touched pavement. Having walked to work, I could get a full day in without worrying about the roads.
Once the storm blew in it was clear that we were in for a long couple of days. The sky turned the color of steel. Wind gusts turned snowflakes into a swarm of bees, stinging skin with the power of windblown sand. (I felt this during a midday walk to Dunkin' Donuts.) It was 2 pm before the snow finally started sticking but by this point EDC's parking lot was clear--save for a single red Fit, the lone interruption in an otherwise black and white landscape. I finished my work up at 3 pm. Figuring that Natalia was probably close to her breaking point with three kids at home, I packed everything up for the 5 minute walk home. I walked slowly.
The kids were already in prime Snow Day mode. Cars was on TV, so I sat and watched the end of it with them, Andres snuggled up on my left and Celia on my right. A perfect moment. They have watched that movie so many times now that Celia knows which parts are Andres' favorites and has adopted them as her own. "Daddy," she says, "rewind it to the part where Mater says bye to Lightning McQueen!" This used to be his favorite part, and he used to make the same request…but today it is Celia who is asking and Andres who is watching. It's a brief moment that perfectly illuminates their relationship.
The movie ends and the wrestling and shouting begins (also another moment that perfectly illuminates their relationship), so I figure it is a good opportunity to go outside. It is 4 pm and about 2 inches of snow is on the ground. On go the snowpants and boots and gloves and jackets and out the door we go, frolicking in a snowstorm that is just ramping up.
After 5 minutes Celia announces that she is chilly. "Daddy my cheeks are cold! I want my owl hat!" she says. I look at her, and her cheeks have turned the color of two small Pink Lady apples. She is wearing the expression that she wears whenever she is trying to be very serious about something. Her mouth is ever-so-slightly turned down at the corners, slightly open, and her eyes are wide. She wants to go inside. I pull down her hat a bit (it's her pink and purple pom-pom hat, which apparently does not cover her cheeks as well as her similarly-constructed owl hat) and tell her that she'll be ok for a few minutes, and why doesn't she help us build a snowman.
The snowman is, of course, named Joey, and is the reincarnation of Joey the First, who we built about a month ago when we had our last storm. I turn around and Andres is feverishly piling and packing snow to form the core of his snowy friend. He sees that we are turned towards him and enlists our help. "Daddy I will pile snow here and you can take that snow and put it on Joey ok?" he says, putting me to work. I don't ask him why he doesn't just take all the snow he is putting into the pile and put it on Joey instead--I just do what I am told. He is also saying "Joey," not "the snowman," which I think is cute.
This partnership lasts a few minutes until we have exhausted the local supply of snow, building Joey to about 2 feet. We decide it is a good time to go in. Joey will be ok for the night, after all, and there will be a lot more snow for us to use tomorrow.
And after a night of snow, snow, wind, snow, more wind and more snow, there is actually a ton of snow waiting for us the next morning. The kids cannot quite believe how much snow has fallen. (The storm is still going on when I feed them breakfast at 8). Looking at the back yard, the top of Joey's head is only slightly visible--it is a gentle bump in the middle of a giant expanse of flat white. Nothing has been shoveled out yet. Our front steps are buried. I can't open the back door. We are not going anywhere today.
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| A perfect day to stay inside. |
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| Enjoying Sweet Cheerios and a show. |
But it wasn't just a snowstorm that has hit us--it is a windstorm too, and the presence of the wind has made for some interesting conditions outside. The railings on the back deck barely have any snow. Natalia's car, parked further in, is entirely covered with snow, and it is impossible to tell where the front of the car is. Whistling through the narrow corridor made by the car and the side of the house, the wind has also made the snow look like desert dunes. But my car--parked behind Natalia's--has created some sort of cyclone effect, so that the trunk is completely accessible and the pavement is visible behind my back two tires. From there the snow arches up like a bowl, rendering any attempt to evacuate the driveway obsolete.
We have breakfast and watch as workers from the management company pull up to our house and struggle to find the location of the walkway. They eventually do and begin to shovel us out, to Celia's glee. She watches them and even musters up enough courage to wave. It is reciprocated. "Daddy I love those men," she whispers to me. One of them pushes another one into the snowbank, they laugh, and they trudge off.
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| Our rescuers. |
Soon we have had enough of watching Channel 7's incessant, hyperbolic blizzard coverage and we all bundle up for the trek outside. Celia and Andres put on their snowpants and jackets, and Natalia snugs Lucia up in her new Ergo baby carrier. Everyone is warm and dressed appropriately. Everyone except me--since I never plan ahead for anything, and since I haven't had a real pair of snowpants since I was 12, I am wearing blue Kappa sweatpants underneath a pair of old ripped jeans. This is hardly snowproof, and before long I have snow caked to my legs and inside my shoes. I'll make sure to be prepared next year.
The kids are awed, again, by the amount of snow outside. It is really impressive. Snow is everywhere, and it seems an impossible miracle that, by summer, all of this will have melted. I begin to shovel out my car. I turn back to see where the kids are, and I see that Andres has clambered to the top of Natalia's Subaru with ease. He has left his poor sister in the dust (or snow, literally), and looking at her struggle to move one foot in front of the other, it becomes clear that I will not have to worry about her climbing any large snowbanks. Each step is a gargantuan challenge for her.
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| King of the road. |
But her brother is still standing on top of the car, and it seems that the most logical way for him to get back down is by sledding. So he is handed a sled, and about 3 seconds and 2 vertical feet later, he is back on the main snowpack, which is about even with the hood of the Subaru. This is fun so he repeats it a few times, sometimes going straight, and sometimes sliding aimlessly off the car to the right. (Obviously there is no danger in this.)
It is still snowing. And it is still cold. Celia holds out as long as she can, but she can't move around very well, meaning that she can't generate much body heat to stay warm. Ice crystals start forming on her eyelashes. She heads back indoors with Lucia and Natalia, perfectly content to enjoy a snowy day from inside.
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| Keeping a warm disposition despite the cold weather. |
Andres is energized by car-sledding and so now we are on to build bigger and better ramps. Thanks to the plow, we have a nice 6-foot hill at the base of the driveway, and this serves as the raw material from which the new sledding track is made. The incline is much steeper than the Subaru's windshield and, for a moment, I wonder if he will be cowed by the steepness. He is not. After a brief hesitation, he goes belly-down on his sled and zips down the track, fishtailing a bit as he reaches street-level. "That was awesome!" he says, barely hesitating before reappearing at the top of the slide. This forms our entertainment for the next half-hour: him sledding, me modifying the track according to his specifications.
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| Ready, set... |
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| ...go! |
And then, at some point, I noticed that the snow had stopped. The storm was over. Even better, the sun was peeking through the clouds, and the midday light was making the snow shine brilliantly. Cars were still buried, but people were now appearing around the neighborhood, shovels and snow-blowers in hand. The cleanup had begun.
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