Blizzarded out

The snow started, fast and furious, last night and it's still going strong as I write. So strong, indeed, that this is now being referred to as "The Blizzard of 2008." Blizzards are unusual in this part of the country, and people are already debating whether this is as bad as the one in 1978, which my husband experienced here.

My first blizzard (I believe this is my second) was in the 1980s, when I was at Harvard. I remember that on the day the blizzard hit I was sick with some nasty cold. Feverish and all I had to trudge out and wade through the dunes of snow to the corner store in search of cough medicine. The store was, of course, thankfully open, since that being Massachusetts, blizzards are very much a part of the winter culture.

Even more thankfully, today is Saturday, there is nowhere to go and nothing to be done outside the house, so we're warm and safe and all together, just awed at the amounts of snow that keep dropping from the sky.

The newspaper man braved it and brought us our paper, for which I thanked him. This was the view from the front door at around 7 a.m. this morning, and it's much worse now.

The deck looks like it has been "frosting-ed" by the snow, and the swing is now cushioned in white, and in peril of being swallowed up.


This morning, when I awoke and started my daily tasks of feeding dogs, cats and wild birds, there were several black birds at the feeder that hangs from the tree in front of the deck. Initially I thought they were Starlings and was preparing to shoo them away, when a second look revealed that they were gorgeous red-winged blackbirds, which aren't frequent visitors here.

They're actually marsh birds but I guess they found out through the bird-vine that we're the McDonald's for birds in this neighborhood and came looking for some take out, as did a cackle of grackles and basically every other bird that lives around here.

I don't have pictures of the blackbirds or the grackles, or of Mr. Robin, who has been coming frequently to drink water from my husband's wonderful heated bird bath. But my husband took pictures of the mourning doves, which hunker down together to keep warm.

The birds aren't the only ones in need of food and water on days like this. The squirrels are also appreciative and, better equipped than the birds, can dig into the snow and get to the seeds I had put out earlier but which were quickly covered.

One creature that absolutely hates this weather is Geni. Unlike Rusty, who'll bound out there in the snow like he was a wolf in Minnesota, Geni is a Puerto Rican street dog and she looks at us with that "You've got to be kidding me!" expression every time we suggest she go outside. The snapshot my husband took of Geni says it all, not only about her attitude toward this whole event but also about how deep the snow is out there.

When it's all said and done sometime by this evening, more than 15 inches of snow will have fallen on us. Let's pray that this is, indeed, the very last temper tantrum of winter.