Traditionally, I plan my annual trip to my daughter’s home in Rhode Island just before Feb. 22, my birthday. However, this year, church responsibilities kept me home. So, I’d planned to leave on Monday the 23rd for the 8-hour trip

But Nature had other plans.

Days earlier the weather forecast was threatening. Warm weather in the southwestern part of the nation was forecast to angle an Arctic blast of cold air deep into the South, where it would collide with a mass of warm, wet air from the Gulf. The result: large, violent thunderstorms, possible tornadoes and even thunder snow as far South as northern Georgia and paralyzing, heavy snows in the Carolinas and northward.

However, if it wasn’t already bad enough, conditions would worsen when the storm neared the East Coast, where the two fronts would be forced even more violently together, air pressure plummeting, winds increasing dramatically. A weather bomb!

From Cape Hatteras up to Maine the seaboard was expected to experience severe winds, up to 70 mph, with sustained winds of 20 to 30 mph with frequent gusts of 50 to 60 mph.

The forecast, despite some minor hedging by meteorologists, remained unchanged that week. Saturday, the 21st, would have been the perfect day to leave, but I couldn’t. Sunday evening Julie called, the first flakes were already falling, the wind steadily increasing.

By Monday morning the wind was howling, swirling violently with over 20 inches of snow already on the ground; visibility less than 30 yards. Businesses were closed, roads shut down, a travel ban in place. This was a blizzard of record proportions and to even venture outside a risk. Even plows became stuck, forced to travel in groups of two or four for mutual support, vehicles driven by drivers who ignored the travel ban stuck in ditches and the medians, the roads impassable.

When I called Tuesday morning, Julie reported an amazing 39 inches of snow had fallen! It wasn’t light snow either. Their neighbor, Ron, who regularly plowed their driveway was unable to help, his truck was down, the plow inoperable due to a hydraulic leak. The seals had previously been leaking slightly but snow of this depth burst them. How’s that for bad timing?

Seth and Julie sighed, grabbed shovels and began the back-breaking task of clearing away the impossibly deep snowfall.

The hip-deep snow with a crust on top was formidable. Some experimentation revealed the most efficient method involved cutting a chunk about 2 feet square, lifting that crusty, top portion up and tossing it as far as possible to the side. This allowed you to shovel the deep snow beneath. That’s a lot of effort for simply 2 square feet.

After four hours, Julie and Seth were both exhausted, aching backs and arms, throats raw from gasping the cold air, hands numb. They’d cleared a quarter of the driveway. That evening they managed to shovel a narrow corridor, perhaps a car width, to the road. Fortunately, Tuesday morning Ron, his plow repaired, finished clearing the remainder.

Thank goodness. Muscles were aching!

Wednesday, I left Bradford at 5 a.m., 4 inches of snow on the street. Route 219 was largely clear if you were careful and I-86 allowed you to hover around 60 by paying very careful attention. I was as tense as a coiled spring, both hands grasping the wheel, very nerve-wracking driving. When I reached the I-390 interchange with 86 the snow disappeared and the roads were merely wet. Irritably, the windshield constantly clouded over from road spray until Massachusetts.

Ten miles from Julie’s, the snow was maybe 24 inches deep, the roads mostly clear. Five miles, still not bad, but at 3 miles things changed dramatically. Secondary roads resembled bobsled runs, huge piles of snow at every driveway entrance, intersections with snow walls 6-7 feet high, you had to inch out to see if a car was coming. Wow!

Strangely enough, the high winds had been a blessing. They’d whipped excess snow off roofs, kept trees bare, lessening limb damage and the danger of uprooting due to snow accumulation. Power outages were few and thousands of roofs safe from collapse. Who would have thought high winds were a God-send?

What do the animals do in 39 inches of snow? For small animals life goes on under snow. Where squirrels had run on top of fallen trees they now tunneled down and ran underneath the trunks where snow was shallow, or they traveled tree to tree raiding their hoards of nuts and seeds above the ground.

Winter birds concentrated on insects hiding underneath folds of tree bark or exposed plant seeds. Deer had migrated to pine groves, instinctively knowing beforehand of the coming storm and herding together, trampling the snow down around them. They’d hit the browse hard close by, then switch to hemlock and white pine.

White pine needles make a great tea and are surprisingly high in antioxidants. They’d manage until the snow settled or melted. Hawks forgot deep tunneling mice and concentrated on birds and squirrels instead.

Mankind is proud, clever and adaptable, but Mother Nature has shown, once again, she’s clearly the master.