In the Midst of the Storm

Everyone was getting ready for it. The news people said it was another bomb cyclone headed for the upper Midwest. Who even knew what a bomb cyclone was? Why is this new term in our vocabulary, much less twice in a month’s time? Snow removal equipment that had been optimistically ‘put away’ for the season was dragged back out. Parents were expecting yet another snow day off of school. How many does that make? April 10th was the day of preparation. The birds and animals knew something was up. Lots of feeding, flurry, and frenzy. By late afternoon, the snow had begun to fall, and cancellations were being announced for just about everything for the next day.

Early in the morning of April 11th, the wind came up with a rage. It whistled through windows, forced itself through cracks in the house, moved the heat out and replaced it with a cold draft. Good thing it was April and not January. We had some inches of snow overnight that promptly got rearranged with the northeast wind. I was surprised how many birds were out trying to feed in the storm. The suet cake feeder was flung from side to side, its protective roof askew, but a Red-breasted woodpecker and a large Pileated woodpecker clung to its mesh sides.

I marveled at how long they both swung there, holding on and grabbing bites of fat and seed. Finally the Pileated woodpecker rested on the off-wind side of the Maple tree. What an incredible and unusual bird!

Dead branches and pine cones dislodged from the trees and tumbled across the yard. A White Pine branch planted itself, and the snow filled in around it.

Dark-eyed Juncos and Sparrows braved the wind to eat seeds that had blown from the feeders. They faced into the wind and only occasionally did I see one tumble across the snow.

A couple took refuge behind and under a Spirea shrub to conserve some energy and eat in peace.

At mid-morning, we had thunder and lightning and bits of hail that pelted the windows. Every type of precipitation fell that day—snow, rain, sleet, and hail, and all with the accompaniment of the fierce wind.

Early afternoon the sky and snow turned an eerie yellowish-brown color. Along with all the debris that had blown off the trees, there was now a layer of reddish-brown dirt covering the snow. Later I learned the dust was blown all the way from Texas on this cyclone of a wind.

It was hard to tell how much snow/precipitation we had that day with all the changes in state. It’s one of those things we usually take a silly pride in keeping track of—knowing how much snow or rain, how cold or hot it is on any given day. It records our days in a very concrete way—each of us our own scientist. But on this day, it didn’t even matter. It was a Spring mess we just wanted to get over in order to get to the Spring we desired.

By Friday morning, the winds had calmed down, but the snow continued. The critters continued to feed and scratch and sing—a Spring feeding with all the singing—a difference worth noting.

Along with the singing was the unmistakable sign of the imminent and unstoppable Spring—the swollen, red flower buds of the Maple tree.

After the storm, AccuWeather announced that we did not just survive a bomb cyclone—it was a ‘monster storm’ and a ‘powerhouse blizzard’—but technically did not qualify as a bomb cyclone. The pressure needs to drop 24 millibars over 24 hours of time to be considered a bomb cyclone—this one only dropped by 20 millibars. So…there…we…go. We were out of the woods on the backside of the storm. Technicalities aside, the storm was real. If it looks like, sounds like, and feels like a bomb cyclone, then so be it. In weather, we are fortunate to have meteorologists studying and forecasting what’s to come. Science is real. If only we had such forecasters for our own lives. We could get ready. We could prepare ourselves. We could make plans, stock up, let go, and drag out whatever equipment we would need for the upcoming upheaval. Instead we are caught in the raging wind, sometimes tumbled around; we hang on, find some peace, do what we have to do. We plant ourselves in a new reality and let the chips fall where they may. We are battered, yet brave. In the midst of the storm, there is singing—along with an imminent pull towards the future. It is a difference worth noting.