The wind was wicked. When I awoke it
appeared as though we would have some
sunshine. This was not to be. It was soon
a painting with fifty shades of gray and
then the wind came up. Gail force winds
battering at anything in its way. Our ice
field extended forty feet more out into
the lake. If I had to guess, I would say that
the speed was twenty-five to fifty miles
per hour. There was an intermittent change,
but the continuity never let up. The windows
of the house, where exposed, were becoming
sheets of ice and you can be sure that no
birds were flying. Whirlwinds of snow in
certain locations, usually encased on three
sides by buildings, were home base for
tornado-like action. The wind entered
and picked up the snow and twisted it
fifteen to twenty feet in the air. I looked
for a tinman and scarecrow. I knew the
cowardly lion would be hiding out of
sight and in danger. In one area, the whirl
left in its center a pile of snow that
kept growing. It went from two up to
about five feet high. No one can believe it.
Now I feel enclosed as I cannot see out
of the iced-up windows. The
evergreens have been emptied of any
snow left on them from the last storm.
So far, we have been lucky with no
power outages. The wind is coming
in from the south-southwest. The
waves are responding as one would
expect. No sooner do they crash when
another wave crashes on top of it. This
adds up to more ice, but mountains are
not forming. The field is just extending.
We have had five hours of this and no idea
when it will end. We are not dreaming and
cannot click our heels and cry for Aunt Em.
The wicked witch has her way, and
Toto cannot find the yellow brick road.
We will wait, trusting that all will end well.
Stanski
January 28, 2023, ^
Steve Haarman 