February 6, 2010

The snow came softly and gently: Feb. 5, 2010



February 5, 2010

       Today will be a great day to sit at my laptop on my porch, looking out at a winter wonderland, working on a short story and my novel.

     Thursday, February 4, wasn’t like this. It was a beautiful day that invited me to be outdoors. The snows of the earlier series of precipitation had virtually disappeared in the Ligonier valley area of Pennsylvania, but in my little corner of the world remnants remained. The sun that sparkled off these remnants cast shadows, a rare sight this winter. (to see illustration, click on link below) It was nice exploring the community and not needing to be bundled up against a bitter cold.

     Enroute to the University of Pittsburgh campus, to hear Pulitzer prize-winning journalist Deborah Henderson speak, I took pictures of the setting sun from my passenger seat in the car. She was scheduled to speak in Ligonier on Friday night, but had cancelled on Wednesday due to the prediction of a tremendous snowstorm.

     Friday dawned with hazy skies. It began snowing in the late afternoon. It seemed the weather predictions were correct.

     I decided to photographically document the storm a short time later.

     The snowflakes weren’t big and fluffy, but were like a fine mist colored white. They were difficult to see with the naked eye, and showed up better on some of the pictures.

     My last photographs were taken just after midnight. Earlier, we had lost our television satellite reception. I read some miscellaneous newspaper magazine inserts until I could fall asleep.

     When I woke up at 6:00 a.m., my husband Monte was out shoveling. He complained that my camera disc was full. It wasn’t. I just hadn’t replaced it in the camera.

     The clouds were still emitting a fine, mist-like snow. We took pictures, and at 7:30 a. m. Monte was still shoveling. He said he wanted to clear out the driveway in case I had a heart attack (I have heart disease). I was a little concerned that he might have one—after all, he is no “spring chicken.”

     A yardstick showed the snow measured twenty inches. It wasn’t due to drifting, since this was not a violent storm. There had been little wind.

     Monte had seen my daughter’s lights on, and thought she was scheduled to work at her job—dialysis technician. She has to drive up Laurel Mountain to her workplace in Somerset.

     She called while I was preparing the photographs. When she woke up at 3:45 a m. to prepare for work, the snowplow hadn’t been through Laurel Mountain Borough. She called work to say she couldn’t get out, but the plows came and she shoveled her driveway and left. She said the mountain was better than expected, the traction control on her car was very helpful, and she drove slowly. It took her less than an hour traveling, and if she has to work tomorrow, she will stay in Somerset. The worst part of her getting to work, she said, was shoveling her driveway.

     Monte finished what shoveling he wanted to accomplish at 7:45 a. m. He said snow depth in the front yard is 16-17 inches, and that the roads are plowed. Emergency vehicles could get in. He is tired and his back has some discomfort, but he is not cold.

     As I finish this post, Monte told me we are very lucky. Fourteen thousand people in Westmoreland County (where Laurel Mountain Borough is) are without electricity, and the county is declared to be in a state of emergency.

     Since the plowing, an inch and a half of snow has fallen. Since Monte started shoveling, about ten minutes before I woke up, the clouds have dropped about a half inch of snow. Currently, the fine snow is falling thickly.

     He noted that this weather could cause a real problem for elderly persons, who might need some services.

     It’s time to post this, have a cup of coffee. I don’t expect the newspaper to be delivered, so I will continue to read down my pile of miscellaneous materials.

     Hopefully, I won’t be too tired to do some writing, and later to bundle up and take a walk through our snow-bound community.

     To view the photographic progression of the snowfall, click on the following links:



January Catalogues Lead to June Gardens

River Song: Part 1

How to Give Support to Caregivers

Will you wear red on February 5, 2010?

Deborah Nelson: Pulitzer Prize Winning Journalist


BRAMBLES (Brief Rambles) 2:2008 May 5—Temporary Art, Bull-Headedness?-Arachnophobia

Don’t let the bed bugs bite…


Two Photographers Named Cornell

Joseph R. (Smokey) Greshok: In Memory—January 19. 2010


  1. We also have beautiful snowfall here in Greensburg. Where my tree is its 2 feet deep, which of course makes a problem for me to get around as I jump down and disappear into the snow!!! However I will stay focused and enjoy it as you will.

    Comment by Surefoot the Squirrel — February 6, 2010 @ 2:25 pm | Reply

  2. Happy to learn that you aren’t one of those without electricity!

    Comment by carolyncholland — February 6, 2010 @ 2:34 pm | Reply

  3. Today and tomorrow look to be the same

    Comment by Will Patterson — February 9, 2010 @ 5:01 pm | Reply

  4. Hah! For once it’s not us here in Buffalo!

    Comment by Cynthia — February 10, 2010 @ 5:21 pm | Reply

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