Thursday, January 23, 2025
It snowed in the south. “Unprecedented” they said. Of course I watched the forecast 10 days out but I never thought we’d get more than a dusting. Pretty to look at—gone within a few hours—that’s my kind of snow. I used to get excited about snow. I loved it when I was a 6 year-old in Germany, but our team trucking years from 2013-2016 cured me of that excitement. In fact, my anxiety about driving in snow and ice is probably the main reason we left that dream behind. Maneuvering a big rig on the small snowy roads of New England, shut downs along I-80 in Wyoming due to high winds and black ice and the many times we “chained up” to traverse the rockies from Donner Pass in California, Vail in Colorado, to Snoqualmie Pass in Washington cured my excitement of snow.
Since the south doesn’t have infrastructure, equipment, or clothing for such an event—we shut down. Tuesday afternoon we were sent home early from work. On the way home, I watched a hawk soar across the highway in the frozen precipitation falling from the sky and wondered what he must be thinking. On into the night we’d open the back door and it would look like a blizzard in the glow of the floodlights on the back of our farm cottage.
I didn’t sleep well. I should have, because earlier that day, I had received results from skin biopsies that were taken on January 9th and melanoma was thankfully, not among the diagnoses. I cried tears of joy as I was overcome with relief. It seems the older I get, the likelihood of battling the disease of cancer that took most of my family becomes more favorable. So, for the past 12 days of waiting, I’ve been trying to mentally prepare myself for battle. As the snow hissed and fell, the breath I had been holding, slowly exhaled as well.
The next morning, everything looked pristine and new. I suited up in my insulated camouflage coveralls and jacket that I wear hunting and grabbed my camera to head out and document it all before it melted. I felt like a jet-puffed marshmallow as I crunched through the snow in my rubber chore boots. I noticed all the birds—sparrows, chickadees, cardinals, and goldfinches— were puffed up like me too. There was no traffic noise from the highway and the silence was a comfort. It reminded me of the days following the “covid shut down”. A needed pause.
Around the farm, the chickens huddled in the snow-free areas under their shade structure and chickshaw chicken tractor. I figured they would continue their egg strike under such conditions, but miraculously—they laid 6 eggs yesterday! Probably related to the bright light that came from the sun glistening and sparkling on the snow. The guinea fowl spent most of the day in the trees. Daisy-Mae, the milkless-milk cow, was slightly perturbed because her water was frozen but the snow didn’t bother her thanks to her soft blanket of fur that I love to rub my hands on to warm them. The turkeys seemed down-trodden about the whole ordeal and I never saw the pigs come out from under the Helene-downed tree where they made a nest. The cats and dogs preferred to spend most of their day inside curled up on the bed or couch.
Around midday I had a Zoom Meeting with some other Georgia writers. It was good to see everyone after the long holiday break we had taken. We normally meet once a month. Listening to everyone’s goals for 2025 was inspiring. I enjoy this group of ladies—we give each other new writing ideas and I was reminded that snow is nitrogen fixation at its best which will make the gardens and pastures extremely happy in the spring (thanks Beth).
After our meeting, I decided to mosey on down to the swamp in my all-wheel drive Outback. Within the one mile from the farm, there was still snow and ice on the highway in the shady spots. Down at the Swamp Sanctuary, the birds were having a feeding frenzy. I refilled their feeders and put a bit extra on the ground for them and the squirrels. The snow was rapidly melting in the bright sunshine making icicles on magnolia leaves as it dripped. The snow that accumulated on the downed trees from Helene in the swamp made them a bit less ugly. I meandered down to the river which was cold and full but sparkling and accented with snow covered limbs and logs as it made its way past on its way to the Altamaha river down south taking the rest of my worries from the past several days with it.
Last night we had the coldest freezing temperatures of the year. Anything that thawed re-froze causing black ice on the roadways and bridges. Out of an abundance of safety, we had another day off from work. I’m thankful for this cold, quiet pause. As the sun shines and the temperatures warm into the lower forties today, I’m seeing more traffic go by on the highway. Things are slowly getting back to normal and so am I.
Blessings y’all. Stay warm!
💜B💜
P.S. Here’s a little video of our snow day:
I really like your video. 😁