Tag Archives: blizzard

The Treasures of the Snow

Winter… when icicles hang by the wall (Shakespeare)… when earth stands hard as iron, water like a stone (Rosetti)… when it’s lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you! (Parish)

We know about ice, we know about frost, we know about the cold wind blowing, and here in western New York, we also know about SNOW. We know about lake effect from Lake Erie, and lake effect from Lake Ontario. We know about mountains of snow in Buffalo, Syracuse, Rochester, Ogdensberg. The late Ted Markham told me once that his dad had had the last horse-drawn mail route in New York, because it needed a sleigh in winter.

What do we REALLY know about snow?

Snow is water in delightful frozen forms. It forms in crystals, coalescing around a micro-speck of dirt, dust, soot, radioactive fallout, or what have you. So maybe your mother had something when she told you not to eat the stuff. (Always listen to your mother.)

The crystals form hexagonally, with either six points or six sides. Famously, no two are alike. Wilson “Snowflake” Bentley was so fascinated by them that he begged his Vermont farming parents to buy him a cumbersome glass-plate camera, and spent literally the rest of his life photographing, studying, and admiring these tiny subjects, each of which endured for only a few seconds, and yet was preserved forever.

Snow looks like snow, but most of us are aware that the flakes vary in size. My grandmother in Rhode Island observed that when the flakes suddenly increase in size, it’s usualy a sign that the fall is about to end, and I’ve found her observation true. But besides sizes, they also vary in shape.

Most famously we have our six-pointed star, the snowflake of cartoons and greeting cards and every child’s imagination. They form with radial symmetry, more or less… nothing’s perfect in nature, and as a snowflake falls its environmental conditions change second by second, so irregularity is the order of the day.

But we can also get six-sided plates, or six-sided lobed plates… sometimes with the “star” embedded within. Or, we could get open-ended six-sided columns.

There’s also needle snow, the shape of which is pretty much what it sounds like.

Look closely if things get very slippy underfoot. You may be “enjoying” graupel, sort of a tiny snowball or snow slab. This happens when atmospheric water collects and freezes on the snowflakes as they fall. Layers of graupel are prone to avalanche.

In a very implausible set of conditions, Florida residents in the Palm Beach-Stuart area experienced grapel last month. (It didn’t stick.)

A blizzard is a severe sustained snowfall with high winds. A snow squall is much the same, but of short duration. Either one may produce a whiteout, in which visibility almost instantly goes to almost zero. “No cloud above, no earth below – a universe of sky and snow!” (Whitter)

Winter can also bring freezing rain, when the surface is colder than the sky, or sleet, when rain freezes on the way down.

Our area only caught the edge of the Blizzard of 1888, which dumped four feet of snow on Albany and almost five feet in Saratoga Springs. Over 400 people died. The blizzard of 1978 had much the same footprint, and multiple locations in Rhide Island reported 40 inches of snow, but “only” a hundred people died.

In February of 1940 the Davenport Orphanage girls in Bath had to go to school by sledge for a week, and snow still lay on the ground in April. After a 1958 blizzard, children in Prattsburgh could climb drifts and reach above the telephone wires. Right where we are snow fell and frost formed every month in 1816, “the year without a summer.”

But as long as it’s not excessive, snow can be one of the most lovely experiences North America has to offer. Even if you only watch it through the window, with a warm robe and a good book in hand.

Snow, Cold, and Ice, in Days Gone By

Well… we’ve had some snow this winter, haven’t we? AND some cold, just like we had some extreme cold last year (which, despite all those extreme low temperatures, was STILL the fourth-hottest year ever recorded… so that deep cold does more to PROVE global warming than to DISprove it).

*Anyhow, the point I’m wandering toward is that in the past we’ve had some winters that were memorable, or even historical.

*Last year an ice jam forced the Conhocton River into the streets of Campbell.

*In January 1996 we got snow, then ice, then rain, which meant that the streams and rivers backed up. Badly. Kanona got clobbered especially hard.

*In March of 1993 it snowed on a Saturday, and school reopened on Thursday. People used their windows, rather than doors, to get in and out.

*A three-day blizzard in 1977 dropped as much as a hundred inches of snow in some places. Unsurprisingly the Buffalo area suffered worst, including 23 deaths.

*The winter of 1957-58 saw deep DEEP snow all through the region. Kids in Prattsburgh played on snowdrifts that were so high, the kids could reach above the telephone lines.

*In 1950, snow broke down the Wildcat Hollow Bridge in the Town of Hornby.

*The winter of 1939-40 was the first winter of the Second World War, and it was an extremely snowy season. Snow still lay on the ground in April, parked cars were buried up to the tops of their tires, and the girls at Davenport Orphanage in Bath went to school by sleigh for a week.

*The Great War winter of 1917-18 saw significant snow, and extremely low temperatures, even as people suffered coal and food shortages because of the war.

*Ice jams flooded Painted Post four feet deep in December, 1901, and temperatures were below zero.

*A two-day blizzard in 1890 stopped the trains as well as blocking the roads. Two feet of snow fell.

*In January of 1877, over five feet of snow fell between one thaw and the next. It crushed a church in Corning, wrecking it beyond repair.

*Methodists used to have a church in Curtis, between Campbell and Coopers Plains. Supposedly more Coopers people attended, so one January night in 1860 they went out and stole the church (yes), sliding it downstream along the thick-frozen Conhocton River.

*None of this quite matched 1816, “the year without a summer.” Snow fell and frost formed in every month of the year. Streams around here were still frozen in April, and froze again in October. Crops didn’t grow, or died in the field and on the vine. People feared that the sun was going out, and wondered if the end of the world was upon them. We now know that the sun’s rays were partly blocked by clouds of dust from a huge volcano eruption. The following summer went back to normal, and the world rejoiced.