The Cranky Yankee: April Snowstorm Blues

We survived the nor'easter of '24.

Snowfall reports vary, but my snow stake showed 19" of heavy, wet snow at the end of the storm. Winds from 30-40 and sometimes 50 mph wreaked havoc on snow laden limbs and weaker trees, bringing down so many that at one point the citizens without power numbered over one hundred thousand in New Hampshire alone. At one point the road closures due to trees and wires down exceeded 200. Thanks to hundreds of tree service companies and utility workers from New Hampshire, as well as crews from neighboring states that flooded the area in the aftermath, we were only without power for 3 days.

The storm started for me on Thursday morning; I woke up at 3:00 am and was too keyed up to get back to sleep. I got up, checked the snowfall, made my coffee, and sat down to do some internet surfing. At 3:53 am there was a huge flash of lightning followed by two thunderclaps that were so intense, they shook the house. Thundersnow! Jim Cantore, eat your heart out.

Five minutes later we lost power.

Through the first part of the storm, snowblowing was fairly easygoing. After feeding the mules I cleaned up in front of the garage, did my path to the barn, and cleared at mom's house. I managed to get my generator started and was very pleased with how well it did over the three day period. Running my mini split heating unit, the water pump, my refrigerator, and a few outlets between my kitchen and the connecting porch I was able to get eight hours of running time for every 5 gallons of gas.

The most significant thing that happened to me specifically is a cautionary tale to anyone who has become far too comfortable with winter cleanup. As the storm was winding down I decided to do some preemptive cleanup around the mule barn. There was about 16-18" of snow built up on the roof, and it's metal, so I knew it would come flying off at some point. It generally will come down in a sheet, and it slams to the ground forming a cement-like berm of snow in front of the hay room doors. My plow guy had punched open the main part of the driveway, but hadn't plowed along the barn side, and I like to keep the hay room doors accessible for unloading shavings, hay, or moving carts of manure out of the barn. And I wanted to dump some manure that morning. I also knew if I could get the current snow cleaned up, that would be all the less I'd need to deal with once the snow came off the roof.

So it was that I began a slow trudge along the barn, through snow over my knees, trying to clear a path with my trusty snowblower. I managed to break open one path almost to the doors, when in a flash there was a complete whiteout, and a second later I was standing - quite shocked - looking at my snowblower buried under a pile of snow. Part of the snow load from the roof had let go.

I began frantically trying to dig out the machine with my hands, which was still running, and attempted to rock it out of its position, to no avail. I went into the barn and grabbed a shovel, and began digging it out with that. And that's when it all went to hell in a hand basket.

The next thing I knew, the other half of the snow load let go and I saw it hit the machine, realized what was happening, and a split second later was thrown sideways into the snow and completely buried. My panicked brain's first thought was "AIR!", and I began trying to claw the snow away from my head. I was pinned under about two feet or more of heavy, wet snow, lying sideways on my right side. My right arm was pinned underneath me, bent so my hand was near my head. My legs were buried the worst, and I couldn't move them at all. I was able to free my left arm and began digging and pushing the snow away from my head and torso as best I could. I was keenly aware that there could be more snow on the roof ready to come barrelling down on me at any second, so of course I began to panic. I started thrashing my torso around, trying to free my right arm enough to bend it behind me to my right back pants pocket, where my phone was. (Note to self - keep the phone in a front jacket pocket from now on!) When I realized I was not going to be able to reach my phone, absolute panic set in. I began screaming at the top of my lungs for help, because my mother had been snowblowing up near her barn when this happened. Unfortunately, she couldn't see me, and couldn't hear me over the noise of her own snowblower, and my snowblower was still running right beside me. I was fairly certain I was going to die in that snow coffin, and wouldn't be missed or found until my plow guy pushed my frozen corpse up the following day. After about fifteen minutes of thrashing, clawing, and screaming I was able to get my right arm freed, then twisted myself up on my hands and knees. I called my mother on my cell phone, crying hysterically. By the time she made it down to the barn, I had managed to pull a foot out of my boot and get myself kicked free, and was standing upright. So I didn't die. Obviously.

I managed to get the machine shut down and my mother took a picture of the snowblower, buried.

Later that night, after I'd stewed on my idiocy for some time, I decided to rescue the machine. I forced the hay room doors open and dug a path to the snowblower, and managed to rock it out of the snow and pull it into the barn. Once in, I was able to wheel it down the alley and out the front door. My back was decidedly not happy.

My would-be snow coffin.

Chalk that up to a hard lesson learned.

Other casualties were part of my newly started mule track; I may be able to salvage the no-climb horse fence, but I'll need to replace some pressure treated posts, and it looks like I may have lost three or four corral panels and a gate or two. I had leaned extra sections against the started fence to use later...wouldn't you know that's where the tree would fall? This was a tall pine that came up by the roots.