Saturday, 8.53pm
And with that I'm off to bed, hoping for unbroken sunshine and soft breezes tomorrow. There is so much of this white stuff that I have no idea when/if it'll be cleared enough for normal life to resume. Join me again soon for minute-by-minute reports of slushy melting and psychological insights from being shut in a house with a toddler. Until then take care of yourselves, and each other.
Saturday, 8.28pm
I met some other humans! They were the snow crew who have been digging out the neighbourhood for the past 24 hours. Now one of them was trying to drive away in his 4x4 and was completely stuck. I lent a push, but there was much wheel-spinning and they were going nowhere. Yes, the snow clearers were unable to leave due to volume of snow, which is a good sign for the rest of us.
The main crossroads.
After ten minutes trying to get around an inclined corner the driver decided to back all the way down and try his luck at the bottom. Sensible? No, but I thought it would be rude to take photos of the disaster.
Saturday, 8.13pm
Once again, dear reader, I risk life and limb after the sun has set to give you a final report on the day. My conclusion? Snow. Snow, some more snow over there, and snow still falling.
Of course, New York City once again decided to one-up the nation's capital by having the most snow ever. The mayor declared it illegal for children to go outside and build snowmen. Maybe something similar was in force around here, which might explain why we were the only people we saw.
No more sitting on the old school bench.
Saturday, 5.53pm
It's officially a blizzard, Hannah tells me after reading The Washington Post. Silver Spring is reporting 28 inches and I've just discovered the live Preliminary Snowfall Map which is very exciting. Most of the totals are reported by "Trained Spotters" - this is now my employment ambition.
We're in top-five-snowfall-in-a-day territory and need only a little more to be record breaking. Come on, storm Jonas, you can do it! And then melt quickly and conveniently.
Dirty snowtini.
Saturday, 3.37pm
It's much better to take your kids out to the park than to sit around at home watching telly. Usually.
A small sign of hope in this bleak weekend. Quite Christmassy really, albeit a month late.
Saturday, 3.19pm
This is getting a bit boring now. All the snow, not my blog, obvi. But after watching Room On The Broom and The Gruffalo's Child (the books are better than the films, to be honest) it was time to head out again to see if anything had changed. There was more snow and wind, but other than that not much.
At some point the snowploughs decided it wasn't worth carrying on. There's been one parked outside our house since 6am, with various discussions happening now and again between the people sitting inside. Perhaps I should go down and offer a cup of tea to give them some motivation.
Luckily my phone has GPS. And we're staying within 20 steps of home, but they are quite energetic steps when the snow comes up to your thighs.
Lone figures in the blizzard. Why aren't more people out playing in this? Because they're not stupid.
Saturday, 1.54pm
Surely I can call it a blizzard now. I think that snowplough is stuck.
Time for a bit of relaxation. Hopefully both of them will be asleep soon and I can get some peace and quiet.
Saturday, 12.10pm
Saturday, 10.43am
And after all that, I need to put my feet up.
A tougher snow angel to make than the last one.
Buckets and spades.
Saturday, 10.27am
It was impossible to get back to the park where Pete and I played yesterday. Given it's a three minute walk from our door this was a bit of a shock, so instead we spent some time sledging down the snowploughed roads.
British Antarctic Survey.
This will impact the efficiency of the post office. Not that anyone will be able to tell.
Saturday, 10.21am
This is two cars. No one's going to be popping out for a quiet afternoon drive.
A lovely neighbour who was clearing her steps offered to take a family picture, before apologising for the weather when she discovered it was our first East Coast winter. As she walked back to her door she fell into a snow drift, was quickly covered, and was never heard of again.
The main road.
Always heed traffic signs.
Saturday, 10.12am
So the weather services are saying that this does not yet count as a blizzard. To which I reply: "come to my front door and say that." But technically a blizzard is winds of over 35 mph and visibility of less than 1/4 mile, for three hours. Now I can't wait until the blizzard part actually starts!
Off to play in the snow. Or knock over a bank - I haven't decided.
Hannah wants to clear our steps so that we can get back in. Safety first is the Chevron way!
And we're off. Guess who's pulling again.
OK, the snow is actually too deep to pull a sledge through, and too powdery to make a snowman with. I'm not having fun anymore.
Saturday, 9.32am
Snow is mounting up at the front door. Any moment it might become impassable. Best to go back to bed.
Saturday, 7.48am
It's piling up, and the weathermen say it's the next few hours that are going to bring the real downpour! Someone can't wait to get out into it (hint: not me).
Saturday, 7.42am
We saw our neighbour putting plastic sheeting out yesterday and wondered why. It's because they really love their dog. And probably don't want to be snowed into a house that smells of wee.
Saturday, 7.37am
Yay, the cappuccino maker is still working so everything is alright. Only about 100 people have lost power. So far.
Saturday, 6.45am
There is a monster in my bed jumping around and shouting about snow. It's his mother's turn to deal with this, due to the 5.22am incident.
Saturday, 6.17am
And with that I'm off to bed, hoping for unbroken sunshine and soft breezes tomorrow. There is so much of this white stuff that I have no idea when/if it'll be cleared enough for normal life to resume. Join me again soon for minute-by-minute reports of slushy melting and psychological insights from being shut in a house with a toddler. Until then take care of yourselves, and each other.
Pure as the driven...like me.
Saturday, 8.28pm
I met some other humans! They were the snow crew who have been digging out the neighbourhood for the past 24 hours. Now one of them was trying to drive away in his 4x4 and was completely stuck. I lent a push, but there was much wheel-spinning and they were going nowhere. Yes, the snow clearers were unable to leave due to volume of snow, which is a good sign for the rest of us.
The main crossroads.
After ten minutes trying to get around an inclined corner the driver decided to back all the way down and try his luck at the bottom. Sensible? No, but I thought it would be rude to take photos of the disaster.
Permit parking only, if you own a sledge and eight flying reindeer.
Saturday, 8.13pm
Once again, dear reader, I risk life and limb after the sun has set to give you a final report on the day. My conclusion? Snow. Snow, some more snow over there, and snow still falling.
Of course, New York City once again decided to one-up the nation's capital by having the most snow ever. The mayor declared it illegal for children to go outside and build snowmen. Maybe something similar was in force around here, which might explain why we were the only people we saw.
No more sitting on the old school bench.
These driveways were being cleared by their owners when we went past this afternoon, and now look at them. Why bother, I say.
Saturday, 5.53pm
It's officially a blizzard, Hannah tells me after reading The Washington Post. Silver Spring is reporting 28 inches and I've just discovered the live Preliminary Snowfall Map which is very exciting. Most of the totals are reported by "Trained Spotters" - this is now my employment ambition.
We're in top-five-snowfall-in-a-day territory and need only a little more to be record breaking. Come on, storm Jonas, you can do it! And then melt quickly and conveniently.
Dirty snowtini.
Saturday, 3.37pm
It's much better to take your kids out to the park than to sit around at home watching telly. Usually.
A small sign of hope in this bleak weekend. Quite Christmassy really, albeit a month late.
Saturday, 3.19pm
This is getting a bit boring now. All the snow, not my blog, obvi. But after watching Room On The Broom and The Gruffalo's Child (the books are better than the films, to be honest) it was time to head out again to see if anything had changed. There was more snow and wind, but other than that not much.
At some point the snowploughs decided it wasn't worth carrying on. There's been one parked outside our house since 6am, with various discussions happening now and again between the people sitting inside. Perhaps I should go down and offer a cup of tea to give them some motivation.
Luckily my phone has GPS. And we're staying within 20 steps of home, but they are quite energetic steps when the snow comes up to your thighs.
Lone figures in the blizzard. Why aren't more people out playing in this? Because they're not stupid.
Saturday, 1.54pm
Surely I can call it a blizzard now. I think that snowplough is stuck.
Time for a bit of relaxation. Hopefully both of them will be asleep soon and I can get some peace and quiet.
Saturday, 12.10pm
Medicinal.
Saturday, 10.43am
And after all that, I need to put my feet up.
A tougher snow angel to make than the last one.
Buckets and spades.
Saturday, 10.27am
It was impossible to get back to the park where Pete and I played yesterday. Given it's a three minute walk from our door this was a bit of a shock, so instead we spent some time sledging down the snowploughed roads.
British Antarctic Survey.
This will impact the efficiency of the post office. Not that anyone will be able to tell.
Saturday, 10.21am
This is two cars. No one's going to be popping out for a quiet afternoon drive.
A lovely neighbour who was clearing her steps offered to take a family picture, before apologising for the weather when she discovered it was our first East Coast winter. As she walked back to her door she fell into a snow drift, was quickly covered, and was never heard of again.
The main road.
Always heed traffic signs.
Saturday, 10.12am
So the weather services are saying that this does not yet count as a blizzard. To which I reply: "come to my front door and say that." But technically a blizzard is winds of over 35 mph and visibility of less than 1/4 mile, for three hours. Now I can't wait until the blizzard part actually starts!
Off to play in the snow. Or knock over a bank - I haven't decided.
Hannah wants to clear our steps so that we can get back in. Safety first is the Chevron way!
And we're off. Guess who's pulling again.
OK, the snow is actually too deep to pull a sledge through, and too powdery to make a snowman with. I'm not having fun anymore.
Saturday, 9.32am
Snow is mounting up at the front door. Any moment it might become impassable. Best to go back to bed.
Saturday, 7.48am
It's piling up, and the weathermen say it's the next few hours that are going to bring the real downpour! Someone can't wait to get out into it (hint: not me).
Saturday, 7.42am
We saw our neighbour putting plastic sheeting out yesterday and wondered why. It's because they really love their dog. And probably don't want to be snowed into a house that smells of wee.
Saturday, 7.37am
Yay, the cappuccino maker is still working so everything is alright. Only about 100 people have lost power. So far.
Saturday, 6.45am
There is a monster in my bed jumping around and shouting about snow. It's his mother's turn to deal with this, due to the 5.22am incident.
Saturday, 6.17am
Thundersnow! Fox News said this was possible so I didn't believe it. There is an almighty flash followed by a thunderclap, and it keeps snowing. That's basically it but it is apparently a thing (The Weather Channel: What is Thundersnow and Why Does It Happen?)
Hannah complains "I can't sleep!" Three minutes later she's snoring and I get to lie awake for the next two hours listening to the snow rattle against the windows and the snowploughs grind past.
