We are here today, brothers and sisters, to mourn a great loss, while we also try to celebrate the happiness that once was.
It is a loss of joy and pleasure, and of people coming together. We once took what we have lost for granted, but now we regret its absence.
It is snow, that wintery treat we await with anticipation each year.
When it snows, outside life is suspended, and we have the gift of an unscheduled holiday at home.
Of course, we say that for the majority who have the kinds of jobs that can be left aside for a snow day now and then, and for students.
Those in medical fields and law enforcement have to go in, no matter what. During most of the years I worked in newspaper, I absolutely had to go in, because the newspaper had to go out. A few years ago, I got internet and all sorts of backup power supplies and internet resources so that I could work from home on snow days, which where we live means the power is bound to go out, but the weather has been so mild I never had to use them.
So essential workers aside – and we appreciate your sacrifices – snow days provided a special kind of life: Sleep in. Cuddle around the fire or propane heater with hot chocolate. Play in the snow, then go back inside and warm up.
It brought a special kind of camaraderie, too. Neighbors and strangers looked out for each other. If you did go out, and your car slid across the road, some kind people would stop and struggle and get your car out for you. On our road, a couple of the men with tractors would go out and plow our driveways, even though we had no intentions of leaving the house. While the men plowed, my daughter and I would shovel our neighbor lady’s sidewalk, even though she wouldn’t have to use it because we’d bring in her newspaper and, if it ran, her mail for her. We had to do that in a hurry before the men with the tractors finished up the driveways and came over themselves to shovel: We were trying to do our part.
We all have different memories of how long it’s been since we’ve had snow, but we all can agree that it’s been a long time. Last year, it did snow on a Sunday. Pictures of the snow in our yards flew across Facebook (is that the new way of celebrating snow? Instead of sledding and making snowmen?) all day, and our social media comments on them kept coming long after the snow had melted a few hours later.
A chart I’ll list below says we had 7.7 inches of snow in 2022, but I don’t remember it. It must have happened on a Saturday when neither school nor work nor church was cancelled.
At the start of this winter my daughter and I looked forward in excited anticipation to the snow, figuring we were due for it this time since we have paid our dues of missing out on it earlier.
U.S. Climate Data tells us that we get – that we have the right to expect – 7 inches of snow a year. ExtremeWeatherWatch.com breaks down snowfall by the year. Let’s start with 2010, because that one was exciting: 35 inches.
2010: 35
2011: 3
2012: 5
2013: 3
2014: 33.9
2015: 10.2
2016: 10.7
2017: 12.7
2018: 30.9
2019: 0.2
2020: 0.7
2021: 3.0
2022: 7.7
2023: 0.1
2024: 0
Though this isn’t how I remember it, the statistics show that we had five straight years with no snow at all: 2004 through 2008. We had four years without, from 1995 through 1998, and six years without, from 1982 through 1987.
From 1958 through 1969, it snowed a lot every year, ranging from 8.5 inches (1961) to 41 inches (1966).
The earliest the figures go back is to 1930. It snowed each year from 1930 to 1956. In fact, people back then were so used to snow that school and events usually weren’t even cancelled, which you can see by reading old editions of our local newspapers.
It may be a little early to feel sorry for ourselves on that matter. March has always shown itself to have a few tricks up its sleeve. Since 1937, 21 years have had snow after March 12, including 19 inches on March 13, 1993, and the most recent March snowfall, 5 inches on March 25, 2018.
