We knew it was coming. It was a matter of when, not if. Those pussies on the willows now have to put on their mittens. And their toques. They shoulda known better.
Yesterday you had to really hunt to find a snowbank – not even a snowbank, just a remnant of winter. Overnight it changed. (Check the photos in THE FIRES OF SPRING.)
This morning the radio reported school buses canceled all over the region, highways closed here and there. From our window, the lake looked white. Not because it was frozen again but because the snowfall painted the air white.
I used the snow scoop to plow a path to the woodshed. Estimated the snow was 12 inches deep (30 cm). An hour and a half later, I plowed again to fetch another wheelbarrow load. Five and a half inches had accumulated on the previous path.
Does being smothered in snow kill daffodil shoots? Olga says no. We’ll see.
It’s noon now, and the radio reports that the highway is closed from Nipigon to Hearst – that’s 5 hours of driving time in normal conditions.
We knew we would get a storm because, living in the North, we do not deserve an early spring. When spring comes early, we feel guilty, so we wait. And we wait. Until the blizzard comes.
Now we feel better.