Experiencing The Blizzard
By Jessica Marie For days the NOAA weather alert radio had been sounding off with its pitched alert tones and humanoid computer voice warning of the impending blizzard. We watched the national weather radar as the storm crept up the east coast. Each day it inevitably marched closer and closer to Maine. We stocked up on goods then hunkered down, preparing for three feet of snow and wind that gusted over fifty miles per hour. Winter in the north looks like a perpetual winter wonderland, once the snow begins to fall it becomes a permanent resident until the spring melt. We gazed across the snow-covered January landscape. It was calm and unassuming, no hint that this serene scene would become a frozen tundra of blinding snow and ice in a matter of hours. The wind began to rail against the house as if warning us to stay inside. The first snowflakes began to fall and we knew it was here. The turbulent winds blew the snow in every direction simultaneously. The gales seemed to rail their angry fists against the house, as if the structure stood in the way blocking a route that the wind claimed was his. We watched the snow pile in drifts. Dead grass nearly poked through the barren spaces and in others the snow stood so deep you could dive in and simply disappear beneath feet of powder. The snow piled high against the door, trying to barricade any way out. Our house stood in a meadow of mankind’s making. Snow swirled off the roof, whipped around solitary trees, and piled on decks, wind shook the house and whistled viciously past. We silently thanked the builders for using two by six construction. I looked to the nearby forest, though I could only see it through momentary lulls in the blinding blizzard. I watched the trees shudder under the storms assault. Trees larger than buildings bowed and bent under its power. I wondered how the forest fared in a storm, did the wind whip past its trunks or did the trees halt the storm from penetrating its depths? The wonder would not leave me. I bundled up. Layers upon layers, my biggest, furriest hat, warmest scarf and gloves, I strapped snowshoes to my boots and took up my trusty hiking stick and set out for the forest on our property. Though to get there I would have to brave the onslaught of the open landscape where the wind and snow reigned as king. I marched towards the dark nearby horizon, the forest looked as such through the storm. Trees and finally a forest became distinguishable as I approached nearer and nearer. The deep whoosh of strong winds through large, sturdy, olden trees filled my ears. Slowly I stepped past the perimeter and trudged deeper and deeper into the forest and watched as the scene around me transformed into a sanctuary. The snow fell faintly and softly to the ground as if it were nothing more than sprinkle. The only clue to the ranging winter storm were the waves of wind that crashed over the canopy. A deep and distinct rumble as strong winds and strong branches fought over who ruled the sky. I walked aimlessly through the forest enjoying the calm and even warmth. The protection from the wind and falling snow made the forest feel like a warm oasis. I watched the thinner, younger trees slowly move and bow under the wind hassling their tops. Even with snowshoes my feet sank several inches into the snow and flakes had begun to invade my boots. At the first twinges of cold threatening my toes I decided it was time to head back home. I followed my tracks back to the space where the forest begins to thin and the clearing starts laying its claim. Here I found the wind fighting for dominance. In the forest my tracks remained untouched, as clear as when I first made each step. In this space in between two worlds the snow had begun to pile into my tracks; making it look as if it had been hours or days since my passing when, in reality, it had been merely minutes. As I broke from the warmth and safety of the forest, I found the snow as pristine as if I had never passed through. Left or right not a track in sight. I knew the property and I knew my direction. I carried on with confidence. The wind began to press me one way and then the next. The condensation in my breath had built up on my scarf that wrapped around my face and neck. The wind carrying its bitter cold bit through the scarf turning the water to ice on my face. Ice so cold it burned my skin. This quickened my pace. Following nothing save for my knowledge of my direction I fought the wind as it tried to batter me. Blowing first from the left then the right, my cheeks burning from the cold. As if from a void the house appeared and I quickly trekked inside. Taking my layers off and hanging them to dry I watched the blizzard rage outside with a new appreciation. Knowing its power and biting cold made me appreciate this home even more. Though I kept in the back of my mind the knowledge that if I ever found myself unlucky enough to be trapped outside in weather like this, I would take refuge in the nearest forest. Then I took to my computer and wrote down my notes on my experience in this truly dangerous storm. As a writer every experience can be used in a book, and I had an upcoming story in the tundra where I could use this knowledge to my advantage. As the wind continued to shake the house and the snow piled itself higher and higher, mocking me as if knowing I would need to shovel it tomorrow, I tossed another log onto our wood burning stove. I carried away on my laptop with my steaming mug of tea, glad to be back inside.
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AuthorJessica Marie Cunningham - Intentional lifestyle blogger, aspiring author, and podcast host. All things Slow Living, Books, Writing, Art, creativity, Christianity, and personal stories. Archives
March 2022
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