The crashing on the roof began somewhere around 2:30 a.m. We could tell by the muffled thumps that the snow that has been falling steadily these last few days continued to be light and feathery, so the wind must have come up to knock it off the branches. A necessary trip outside forced me to plunge through several feet of snow. I kicked the top off before each step, but when I slipped into a hole between two logs on the edge of the beach, I gave up and plowed through my task, before running for home. The next time I stepped outside, everything had changed.
The temperature had risen to 32°, melting much of the remaining snow in the trees. These heavy rafts ceased plumping down, and began crashing, carrying branches with them. My morning trip to the outhouse, begun deliberately, with snow shovel in hand, turned into a dash for safety through pummeling snow. By the time I got back, a local radio announcer had begun breaking into the national news to inform us of closures. Almost everything in town, where they get much more snow than we do, has closed. They closed the Post Office, for heaven’s sake—the “neither rain nor snow nor dark of night” people! The Police are forbidding people to go out on the roads, driving, walking, or otherwise.
That’s fine. I had thought of hiking out to dig out the car for a lecture we’ll want to attend tomorrow. But, I think the lecturer lives up the valley, so there may not be one after all.
Just as I was about to post this, we heard a shuddering roar. Looking outside, we saw the back windows of the cabin blacken as the entire snow load on the back half of the roof slid off.
We’re happy to stay home. We started decorating for Christmas yesterday, and we have a long way to go before we’re finished. If I need to go outside, my hard hat is hanging on a peg on the porch.