Glad I'm not the owner of this car. February 9-10th Blizzard, 2010. © Christine Otis

There is no love lost in leaving behind New York State winters with the cold, harsh, long—very long—depressing days that can begin as early as October and end as late as May. Despite the distance from those lake effect snows, Philadelphia has had more snow than Buffalo and Syracuse, New York. With a record breaking 72.1 inches of snow this season, the first blizzard of 2010 hit on the fifth of February dumping 28.5 inches on the region. The latest blizzard brought freezing rain, sleet and another 15.8 inches of snow with 35 mph winds and thunder snow.

Philadelphia is still cleaning up after two major blizzards with another storm on the way. Is there a possibility that Buffalo, New York could be jealous?

Nah!

Do you know what bothers me most of all?

I have yet to go sledding.

First, I have no sledding partner nearby.

Second, I don’t own a sled.

Third, I haven’t gone sledding in about 20 years.

There is my other favorite pastime that, unfortunately, has lost its glitter. Shoveling is an understatement for the amount of work I’ve done digging out my driveway. No, I don’t own a snow blower. I love shoveling snow. But this year, my love has been lost.

Even I thought I was nuts after digging out my driveway for the fourth time this season, and that was before the last blizzard began. The usual amount of snow shoveling I do for the season? Zero to one.

It’s usually zero.

Hungry robin during the Blizzard of February 5-6th, 2010. © Christine Otis

I have shoveled, shoveled, and shoveled my driveway, giving myself the much needed work-out or so I tell myself. I fed the lonely robin that appeared to me in the first storm—cold, hungry and continuously staring at me—as I crazily shoveled in blowing wind and flying snow. I wasn’t too certain who thought who was more nuts—me or the bird. I fed it blueberries, cranberries, rice and bread, offering it up in a bowl set-up in the branches of the bushes.

The robin went right over and began feasting. It didn’t fly away when I got extremely close to take pictures, sometimes looking at me dead on.

Hungry robin staring at me during the Blizzard of February 5-6th, 2010. © Christine Otis

The following day with the blizzard gone, the robin visited me while I shoveled more, flying down and landing under the car, while I scooped the fluff of white into a mound. Once again, the robin watched me. It was the only bird that seemed to personally thank me for the food I gave.

I guess I should have visited home and missed the whole mess, but then I would have missed feeding the robin, getting the great shots, and getting my work-out, too. Although my love has been lost, maybe I can find it again. Despite the harshness of the weather, I made a feathered friend, igniting my spark to share tales of blizzards, birds, and what it brings to us and out of us to share, jealousy and all.

Fountain by Philadelphia Waterworks. December 20, 2009 © Christine Otis

That’s what this weather is: a huge understatement. It’s Friday, December 11th with bone chilling cold and a stinging wind. The memory of my roots smacks in my face as the harsh cold pushes through me and licks my heels. The frosty wind makes me shed tears with no effort on my part. The only thing missing was lake effect snow and a blizzard.

The wish was granted. Yesterday, a blizzard arrived dumping 23 inches of white flakes in a day. Traveling was joyous fun, especially on winding, hilly roads. There were no deer around, luckily, as the road continued with awkward bends into the hills.

The snow collected and stuck to the wipers. It created miniature golf ball size ice clusters that made the wipers ineffective as I poked along Interstate 76 at 5 mph. The cars were like a heard of cattle, all heading in one direction in the blinding snow.  

The four lane highway turned into two lanes. The dotted lines that usually define the different lanes were no longer visible and it didn’t matter. Motorists wanted the distance, too scared of hitting one another in the rough conditions.

The sun was going down and with it, the solid formation of ice under the newly fallen snow. Around the bend, a car slid and red lights grew in intensity in front of me. I braked, too, sliding on the surface as my anti-lock brakes went into effect. Almost hitting the car in front of me, my pounding heart came to a stop, momentarily, as my car did finally come to a complete stop. I was thankful of my Upstate New York roots.

This wasn’t something new for me, but a typical snowy day. The only difference was the amount of traffic. The car behind me came close to hitting me, too, but I was thankful that the line of us, that now zigzagged like a drunk, was no longer in motion. My heart returned to its normal rate. I was equally as thankful that the car ahead of me didn’t hit the barrier but only tickled it.

It’s been a while since Philadelphia has had snow like this. This is the second largest snowfall for us with one storm. The blizzard of 1996 holds the record for most snowfall with 30.7 inches. That blizzard was incredible, crippling the region for days. After that blizzard, the only way to get around the city was by foot.

Sledding on the Art Museum steps. December 20, 2009 ©Christine Otis

This one isn’t as bad with people still managing to get out for holiday shopping. Snow still needs to be cleared throughout the area, but people went to the Art Museum to go sledding down the steps.

What is most striking to me is that these last few weeks have been so frigid.

Winter gets all the blame, but it is after all, still fall.