We are buried in snow. Not snow depths of Colorado, Montana, or Yellowstone, but for here in Boise, we’ve got about a foot on the ground, more snow than in more than 30 years. No one is prepared for it. When it first came, we had warm weather and it started melting. Most roofs have giant icicles hanging off the eaves. Ours does. You can see the ice dams forming. We’re hoping the warm weather comes all at once so the dams will melt and there won’t be any damage. When I first moved to Boise from South Dakota, I was amazed at how mild the winters were here. I had no trouble keeping the driveway and sidewalk clear of the little snow that fell. In South Dakota, I’d shoveled a foot or two out of that driveway so the few inches here were easy. There the snow blew sideways many days and stuck to the side of the house.
In Spearfish, our house sat so that a drift always formed across the front of the house and was deepest in front of the garage. The only place I’ve ever been snowed in was that town. My son and I shoveled the 4- to 5-foot drifts that landed right in front of the garage door, plus the rest of the driveway and the sidewalk to the front door and the sidewalk along our large lot. We eventually bought a snowblower that helped a lot, but we still had to shovel that snow drift after every storm.
One winter a big blizzard came through and a massive snow drift cut our street off from the rest of town. Two days later, the city front-end loader broke through the drift. We had one lane through that mountain of snow for a while, but at least we could get through. The snow drifts were the only thing I didn’t enjoy about living there.
So when I complain about the snow in Boise, ignore me. A foot of snow on the ground is nothing compared to all my winters in Colorado and South Dakota and now Hubby’s home to shovel instead of me and our son. He’s the one that’s always looking for a way to exercise. Thanks, snow!
Heartwarming Small-Town Romances and Thrilling Mysteries