3 Quarters Today

My Life, my photography, my passions

snow

Day 65/365: Winter Snow Drift in Nebraska

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Day 65: Nebraska Snow Drift

In Nebraska snow plus wind equals amazing snowdrifts. I love how the wind creates works of art. The wind travels across miles of empty fields collecting snow and deposits the very dry fine snow into very high drifts. It only takes a few inches to create several feet worth of drifts. This last storm was only six inches but resulted in a few 4-6 foot drifts.

Day 65: Waves of Snow

 

Nothing you want to be out in while it’s blowing, white out conditions with zero visibility created black ice this time and resulted in hundreds of accidents in Omaha and Lincoln. The interstate was closed for a short time. The Elmwood-Murdock school district, and other surrounding towns were closed for two days, one day for the storm, the next to open the many miles of country roads so the buses could get through.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Day 64/365: Cat’s Winter Silhouette

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Day 64: Cat in Winter

The sun finally came out after three days cold  winter weather and this cat took full advantage to sun bathe in the middle of the street. Took several of them, but I liked this one the best.  There was something that I like about the back of the cat’s head rather than her looking at me.

I’m not sure of this her name,  it’s my neighbors cat and just another photo opp on the way to the mailbox.

Day 44/365: Colonial Home

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Day 44: Colonial Home

One of my fondest memories of my teen years was historic old Main Street in South Windsor. I would ride by bike from East Hartford every Saturday morning into the country to look at horses. I was just a little horse crazy as a 13 year old girl and knew where every horse lived on my four mile “route”.  People were more than friendly and let me pet and feed them carrots. This weekly ritual lasted many years and resulted in many friendships that have lasted over thirty years.

One of the families on my route took pity on me and convinced their son to let me ride their horse and eventually give me lessons. I got involved in the Scantic Valley Riders 4-H Club, and showed small sorrel quarter horse, Wimpy’s Kelley at the Hartford County 4-H Fair and the Wapping Fair in the late 1970’s.  She was the first horse I rode on a regular basis and lived over thirty years.

When I moved from New England I began to appreciate the history of the area and homes I took for granted that were built in the 1700’s were suddenly interesting. It’s part of the charm of the area that you can’t get anywhere else in the country. Homes built during the birth of our nation, historic homes still standing, like the one in the picture above that stands proudly under a blanket of snow.

 

Day 43/365: New England Blizzard

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Day 43: Snowy Red Barn, Ellington, CT

Winter storm Benedict brought a record snowfall to the State of Connecticut. I was lucky to be there when I was to remember great snows of my childhood which brought back memories of snow forts, snowball fights, and sledding at Wickham Park.

New England snow is different than Nebraska snow. It is softer, gentler, and quiet. Even though Benedict was officially called a blizzard. Compared to Nebraska storms, Benedict was a whisper.

I spent several hours shoveling snow in the driveway, and enjoyed it. There wasn’t a 50 mph wind cutting through me, and the temperature was almost a balmy 27 degrees with a slight breeze of maybe 10-15 mph. A vast difference from most shoveling conditions in Nebraska when the temperature is in the teens with 50 mph winds.

Bowing to my middle aged years I took several breaks, took pictures of the birds in the backyard, and just let memories linger. As I entered the “plow ridge” at the bottom of the driveway I paused.

Here was another difference. In Nebraska the street plows wait until the snow stops before getting to the residential areas. If a plow had come by my Mom’s once, they came by at least a dozen times pushing and packing snow at the bottom of the driveway. The streets looked good and passable, if you could get out.

As I paused to start the heavy lifting a pickup with a blade drove by, I glanced and nodded. He stopped, asked if I would like the bottom pushed out, and I smiled and gave the thumbs up. In less than two minutes the bottom was clear. Turns out, he was the son of a neighbor two houses down and 45 years later I meet  Bobby Milton. A name I hadn’t heard in many many years. I didn’t know him, and he didn’t remember me, but he was probably 10 years older and into racing cars when I was in elementary school. But when I mentioned his Great Dane, Xeno he smiled and said, “You really did grow up here.”

He then went across the street and pushed out another neighbors driveway where a nine year old boy had been shoveling for several hours. It was a random act of kindness, one of several in the week I will remember.