Memories of a Winter Storm

We got our first winter blast this week. Cold, windy, snowy and a pain to drive in. (Gotta get those winter tires on). Anyhow, it reminded me of our first winter storm here. We had been in PEI less than a month and still living in town while when the snowstorm hit. It has gone down in local history as "White Juan", referring to the Hurricane that had hit in the summer before we moved here.Here's the account I wrote to my parents (Colin & Eileen).

A couple of days before the storm hit, we had been told about it on the news. My whole attitude was, “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Rather blasé, I admit; but having heard these reports before in BC about windstorms and nothing come of them, I’m prone to be skeptical. In spite of my non-believing stance, Wednesday night we did go out and do a grocery shopping and the laundry, just “in case”. P and T, barely 11, were pretty excited about the prospect of a big snowstorm. I told them not to get their hopes up.

At midnight, I went out for a walk with Dusk (one of the advantages of owning a BIG dog most people mistake for a pit bull, you can pretty much go where you want, when you want). The night was clear and mild. So many stars in the most interesting patterns decorated the sky. The waning moon was the barest of smiles. “Hah!” I thought, “Blizzard my left foot.” (edited for language).

By the next morning, I sort of change my mind. The wind is high and the snow's coming down sideways. “Well, it’s not that bad, I’ve seen worse.” Think I, proving once again that no matter how delusional my thoughts may be, I really stick to my guns. At 9:00, I take Dusk out for a walk. He is overjoyed. He pretty much figures this was all done for him and has a grand time. He loves to stick his face in the snow and then toss his head back, making the snow fly. When he lifts his head up, his face is completely white with two large black eye holes and two small black nose holes. He looks like the world’s stupidest KKK member (well, except for the nose holes I guess, but you have to admit, there is no such thing as a smart klucker). It's very windy and I notice when Dusk jumps into the air, he tends to stay up there longer than he should. I this point, I decide to head back in, knowing there’s a big difference between walking the dog and flying the dog. Besides, it was getting hard to see with all that blowing snow.

Inside, the kids all warm and toasty of course, are totally impressed by the magnificence of this storm. They look out the window, “oohing” and “aahhing”. “Oh, look, there goes our compost and garbage cans. They’re empty now.” “Look, there’s a mountain forming in our backyard, WOW!” Kids…so full of wonder and too young to shovel snow.

By 10:00, the only thing I can see is the tree in the front yard, it’s about 15 feet from the door. The wind is making the inside walls creak. At noon, I step outside and ask Dusk if he’d like to come. Dusk goes to the door and throws me a look that says, “Yeah right, you stupid human, keep dreaming, you’re good at that.” I try to encourage him and discover that dogs can go quite fast in reverse. I had never seen a dog run backwards before. The wind outside sounds like a subway station when a train is approaching. I was out for less than five minutes and I was caked in snow and pretty much frozen solid. Taking off my coat inside, I discover the wind blew a couple of buckets of snow up my shirt, well that accounts my frozen state. The kids have lost their amazement with the storm. They’re rather upset with me because they have home school while everyone else in the province doesn’t have to go to school.

Noon, I finally decide the weatherman is right and we have ourselves a bonafide winter blizzard on our hands. I start watching the weather station and find out Nova Scotia has declared a state of emergency – the wimps. From what I see, it’s a lot worse in PEI than NS; they look positively Hawaiian compared to us. The wind has us convinced there is someone walking upstairs in the house. Don goes to the washroom and notices the water in the toilet bowl has ripples. Remember that scene in the first Jurassic Park movie when the T-Rex approaches and the water in the drinking glass ripples? That’s just about what’s happening in my toilet. I can no longer see the tree in my front yard. But I did see a little of my neighbour’s garage siding flit by like a deranged bird with no navigational skills. P looks out the window, figuring pretty soon he will see polar bears…

3:00, the subway train has moved inside, it sounds like it’s upstairs. The cable and Internet are gone. I am so thankful we have power. 3:10 the power goes off. Oh well. I decide to take a nap – it’ll be better when I wake up. Note: Please refer to the above remark about my delusional tendencies.

By 5:00, the candles are lit and the sleeping bags pulled out. No one is wearing less than four layers of clothing. We discuss the options for supper, peanut butter sandwiches or peanut butter with BANANA sandwiches. Or may-be we’ll shoot ourselves a polar bear and have raw bear meat. T brightly suggests we go to a restaurant (well, at least she gets her delusional quirks honestly). We hear on the battery radio that the Confederation Bridge is closed and a state of emergency has been declared for PEI. “Well,” I think, “it’s about time!” (Notice the complete absence of bravado and smirkyness, making way for a smidgeon of commonsense). Now the subway train is going around in circles upstairs with increasing speed, I’m pretty sure it’ll be heading downstairs in no time at all. The kids are NOT sleeping upstairs and the dog WON’T go outside to pee. Yup, pretty much a state of emergency as far as I’m concerned. Can’t see outside, period. The windows are caked with snow.

At 8:00, we start getting ready for bed. We’ve been listening to the news and since we already know how horrible it is, it’s not really “news” to us. They say don’t expect power until late morning or early afternoon when the storm passes – well, DUH. Before going to bed, I decide to take Dusk outside. I haul him outside (and I do mean haul) and immediately get slammed against the railing by the wind. The dog panics and takes off. I start yelling for him. The end of the 15-foot leash tightens and suddenly goes limp. My heart stops. What if he broke the leash? How am I going to find him? Clinging to the railing, casting my flashlight over the night white, I yell his name. I decide to let go of the railing and search for my stup…uh…beloved pet then there he is! My beautiful brindle dog is completely white all over, snow inside his ears, up his nose and possibly … well, you get the picture. I start screaming, “Dusk, go PEE, go PEE, Dusk! He looks at me stupidly, “You’re kidding, right? It’ll probably freeze before it hits the ground.” I re- iterate, “Go PEE!! For the love of GOD, GO PEE YOU DUMB MUTT!” Finally, he takes the stance and proceeds to have the longest whiz ever recorded in dog history. This one is going to make the Guinness World Book of Records. My frantic cries of “Go PEE!” change to “OK, done? OK, you’re done, let’s go. Come on, let’s go, you can’t possibly still be peeing! OK, done?” Finally he’s done and I try to get up the stairs. No dice, I can’t get footing and the wind is blowing the wrong way. I get the dog in front of me and he pulls me in. Dusk is totally ticked at me, won’t talk to me, won’t look at me and has decided NEVER to go pee again. P and T snuggle down with me in bed. Don won’t sleep with two small, wiggling, kicking children and decides to sleep in the living room with the dog. Some guys get all the breaks. Just as we are all settled in, the power comes back on! I don’t know how, but the power company managed to hire a bunch of angels. We pretty much figure it will go out again but it doesn’t. As we sleep, the wind rattles and blows, not only talking the talk but walking the walk. Snow taps evil Morse code against the windows.

Next morning, we can see outside, kind of wish we couldn’t. Surprisingly, the stairs and front walk are free of snow; the road right in front of us is bare black top. Unfortunately, the bare road is book ended by two walls of snow. Yes, I know they are called drifts but when they’re over 8 feet, they’re walls. The front yard is covered in garbage and compost. Countless white plastic bags decorate the trees in the backyard. SIGH. The drift in the back yard reaches over the edge of our neighbour’s roof. The wind is still high and the blizzard warning is still in effect.

We all go outside. The kids think it is wonderful. The dog thinks it’s wonderful. He even goes pee in the fresh snow. The drifts are so hard packed that P and T scale them without sinking. Whee!! Down drifts they go, happy and carefree. Kids, old enough to slide on their butts and still too young to shovel snow. Don and I, snow shovels in hand, are anything but “carefree”. The drive way looks insurmountable.

But it’s over and we have about 24 hours before the storm from Ontario hits us. That should be enough time to teach the kids how to shovel and the dog how to use the toilet!

Originally written by Marnie, Feb.20, 2004