We have only one car, so when Jerry left on that Thursday for San Diego, the plan was that Rebecca would pick me up here and I would go down with her for the party. On Friday, the massive snow storm moved in…and I was alone here in Crestline until Sunday evening, when Jerry finally made it back. We knew there was a chance of snow, for it had been forecast, but its intensity was unknown.The storm was fierce; on highway 18, they were checking identification, and only local residents could travel into the mountains. Rebecca wouldn't be allowed to come for me. She couldn't have made it anyway, for she has a small non four-wheel drive car and no chains.
Alone for the snow storm. What was that like?
Let me say right away that I was not scared. I am blessed with a calm nature, and I don't commonly experience fearfulness. I certainly am not afraid to be alone, for Jerry's plan and mine was that I would be here by myself from Thursday to Saturday morning.
I was desperately trying to finish my book, so my being here for a couple of days while Jerry visited with his sisters appealed to me in that regard. My overwhelming reaction, though, when the massive snow started falling, was that I wanted Jerry here so we could enjoy it together. Our phone lines buzzed as I tried to describe to my family the beauty of the storm, and my excitement.
We people are made in such a way that we want to connect to others, especially in times of joy and when overwhelming beauty surrounds us. We have the need to talk about it and to share the wonder. I wanted Jerry here and my children and the grandchildren, so we could be awed together.
Numerous icicles began forming outside our kitchen window, lace curtains, whose points of ice shimmered at dawn. Visible from our bedroom window, alongside the chimney, a massive icicle grew; its final length measuring over 7 feet long, width exceeding 12 inches. A monster. As is common with mountain houses, we have many windows. As the storm mounted, I wandered from room to room and gazed on the incredible beauty–beauty that changed by the hour. The wide branches of our trees were garbed with blue-white dazzle. The snow was powder, and from the front window, I watched as wind from the lake dipped and lifted,sculpting ridged mounds as though to replicate Glamis sand dunes. The patio table on the deck off the study became a meringue pie, ever increasing until, several days later when the snow finally ceased, the pie's depth was three or more feet. Twenty feet high drifts on highway 18 were reported, so that at times, they had to block the highway and plow away more snow. I slept little, rising often to turn on the yard lights to gauge the storm's progress.
"Swirling snow in the air in San Diego", Steve reported.
"Hail in our yard, Mom," said Rebecca from San Bernardino.
"Cold in Lake Havasu," reported Mike.
"Are you alright?" phoned Nancy.
Ken came over, took the co-owned snow plow from our garage and cleared enough driveway for Jerry to drive into the garage.
"I'll be home on Sunday evening," Jerry said. And so he was, pulling safely into the garage at twilight.
In the evening, we turned on the globed outside lights, and against their beams, we could see that snow had begun to fall again. I had stood at that same spot for days, and it had been spectacular–but now it was better. Jerry was here. I grinned at him as I turned from the window to share my joy. "It's snowing, Jerry!"