It is Nov. 29 as I write this; and within the past 24 hours, I have seen mentions on social media of the possibility of a big winter storm sometime between Dec. 10 and 15.
I guess, by the time you read this, we’ll all know whether it happened.
Even if we’re not looking back at a big storm, we’re always looking forward to the potential of one at this time of year.
I don’t know how the cult of the white Christmas got started. Was it the song that did it, or did people pray for snow on Dec. 25 before the song was written?
Either way, this is the time of year when those of us who are accustomed to snow (and who celebrate Christmas) start hoping for a storm at least big enough to coat the ground on Dec. 25.
Since snow is on my brain — and the formal start of winter is just a few days away — I thought it would be appropriate to go looking for a real whopper of a snowstorm on my grandfather’s calendars.
The one I chose didn’t happen in December, but the calendar entry captures the moment pretty nicely anyway.
(Apropos de nada, I like the differing dimensions of the two hearts on the Feb. 14 Valentine’s Day drawing. Kinda suggests that the ideal love partnership does not involve two perfect twins, but rather two sides that each bring something different to the table.)
Anyway, looks like Stamford got socked pretty good. Twelve inches of snow meant two days of no school and one day of no work. No nuthin’, even. Love the snow crowding the TV antennas — that’s a nice period touch.
This wasn’t the worst storm of the season, as it turned out. Just three weeks later, the Ash Wednesday Storm of 1962 would devastate chunks of the Atlantic seaboard, kill 40 people, and bring heavy rains and flooding to Stamford.
Nor’easters are something totally different; I’m trying to keep my mind off those.
Instead, I’ll imagine thick flakes of driving snow piling up quickly on roofs and streets and pine trees; and heavy gray skies giving way to darkness; and the hush of a snow-covered morning on an atypically quiet street; and the momentary confusion in the mind of a corporate workhorse as he realizes there will be no draftsman’s table waiting for him that day.