Essay | A Big Woods Snow Day

AMHERST TOWNSHIP/FILLMORE COUNTY — The Big Woods can be a quiet place in the winter. The deer hunters have retreated for yet another season. The farm equipment hibernates in machine sheds across the countryside. The critters burrow in, and so do people, for the most part.

The place gets even quieter when a winter snowfall piles up deep enough to halt even the stoutest of four-wheel drive vehicles. Despite this year’s low volume of snow, the 2019 February blizzard remains fresh on my mind.

The weekend snowfall and winds brought on by that February storm sealed us in for an extra two and a half days before the road grader successfully pushed its way down our dead end with the V-plow.

The night of the storm the power flickered off and on again. Upon morning daylight, I realized why. The wind had broken off the top of one of our trees and on its way down it clipped our service line. Thankfully, it didn’t kill the power completely or I can only imagine the headache that would have resulted in trying to get a timely repair based on the travel conditions discovered the following morning.

The Monday after the worst of the storm subsided, I pulled the car out of the garage before first light. The snowplow had not yet arrived, but I figured I had to at least attempt to get to work if I wanted to maintain my credentials as a hearty, resilient Minnesotan.

With our all-wheel drive cars, we can usually navigate through snow as deep as 8-10 inches. In this case, however, the wind had drifted the fresh snowfall severely enough that I made a quick retreat back to the garage. It was a snow day, even for the grownups of the household. 

A Snow Day? Sort of…

Because of modern technology, a snow day isn’t truly a snow day anymore. What it really meant was that I’d be working from home between frequent glances toward the front driveway, nervously watching and listening for the township snowplow.

We waited all day without hearing the familiar sounds of the steel blade on our limestone gravel. I wasted time tunneling out a pathway along our front walk, only to have the trench quickly fill back in even as I worked. 

The winter winds persisted in trying to blow our snow to Wisconsin. Toward dusk, my wife and I went for a trudge down the driveway to see how bad it really was, pulling our toddler by sled, only to sink waist deep at times.

We waited all night.

Tuesday morning, like a kid at Christmas, I was up and out of bed earlier than I should have been to survey the scene. Nothing but some rabbit tracks had disrupted the drifts across the driveway. 

I called my octogenarian neighbors, Glenn and Olive Peterson, to see how they were doing and get the scoop on the status of their road. They were doing fine and were plowed out to boot!

Glenn offered me a ride to town. After politely insisting I couldn’t impose on him like that in such hazardous conditions, I quickly sensed he was suffering from a little bit of cabin fever of his own. He persisted and I graciously accepted the invitation.

I threw on my coveralls, snow boots, and mittens, grabbed my briefcase, and trudged the quarter mile down our drifted driveway to wait at the end of the road for a ride — feeling again like a kid at the bus stop. Later that day I received the picture from home showing the road grader finally at our dead-end turnaround.

Snow days were more fun as a child, when my biggest responsibility was shoveling our driveway and the rest of the day could be spent loafing around.

Lessons learned

The 2019 storm taught me a few valuable lessons about emergency preparedness as a property owner. I installed a wood stove to build resilience against any prolonged power outage. I removed the trees that were aged and at high risk of disrupting the power supply the next time the fierce winter wind blew. I picked up a used snowblower for the tractor (which I have since spent more time hooking on and off the tractor than using to blow snow). 

For fun, we bought a used snowmobile from my cousin. I don’t know that it will ever get bad enough that I’ll have to commute to work on a snowmobile, but it’s nice to know I could if I wanted to. Until then, the kids find it useful for a few thrilling laps in the pasture when the conditions allow.

I see pictures and hear stories from decades gone by and get the impression our little snow-in was a more frequent occurrence for my grandparents. I admire their grit for having survived it without the conveniences we are accustomed to now. I can also better understand why in their retirement they spent a healthy portion of the winter in Texas. They earned it.

Perhaps by the time this short story is published snow will be piled high again. The mere prospect of a repeat three-day snow-in still seems daunting, even if unlikely to recur this year. Regardless of its next appearance, I’ll be ready.