On October 29th, 2011, the word "freak" preceded the words "winter storm". We've had snow in October before, even measurable snow and especially here in the northwestern hills of Connecticut. Not at all unprecedented. What was unprecedented was the sheer amount of very wet, very heavy snow accompanied by freakishly high winds. There's that other word again. Freak.
I was working at the Thrift Store on this Saturday before Halloween when the snow started falling. Unlike most snow storms, this one started off fast and furious - no gentle dusting of flakes as a warning; rather, miniature snowballs falling so quickly as to obscure visibility and coat the ground within a quarter hour. Although I have a four-wheel drive Subaru, and the road home is mostly a straight shot down a well-maintained major route, the snow was supposed to start off as a rain storm around noon and not switch over to snow until sunset or so; the fact that it was coming down like gangbusters at 11:30 a.m. led me to believe this was going to be one for the record books. I closed down at noon, headed over to the small grocery store just behind the thrift store for coffee - and joined what looked like the entire town of Woodbury, Connecticut (population 5,118) who were also shopping for their last-minute supplies.
I'm a pragmatist and in most ways, a realist. I know, intellectually, that the old "Blizzard of '88" scenario, with transportation halted for weeks and snowbound families starving to death, can't happen in this day and age. At worst, we lose power and have to shelter at a local school for heat and running water. Most of us have enough non-perishable food in our cabinets to last substantially longer than three days. I know this; I'm sure most others do as well. So what drives us to purchase all the milk, bread, strawberry Pop-Tarts and D-cell batteries before a storm? Some latent squirreling instinct, perhaps?
45 minutes later, with my large Maxwell House coffee canister (and fresh strawberries, local maple syrup, and a few other essential items in hand), I regained the safety of my vehicle and headed home to enjoy the snow and silence of a pre-winter winter's day. I managed to make two pans of lasagna. I turned on the Christmas lights on the house that we didn't get around to removing last season, and called it good.
October 29, 2011 4:30 p.m.
The snow continued to pelt down throughout the afternoon, and in the early evening hours, the wind started picking up. By nightfall, ominous cracking sounds added a sinister low accompaniment to the soprano shrieks of the wind and the mid-toned splattering of slushy, wind-driven snow bombarding the windows. Occasionally, a solid thump was heard and felt, and the lights flickered and came back on several times. And then flickered after a close-by "BOOM" and stayed off. It was 6:01 p.m.
