When we caught our Lyft to the Phoenix airport on Tuesday, the driver asked where we were going. We told him we were heading to Denver to visit our kids and grandkids. “Oh wow,” he immediately said. “You’re going to run into a huge blizzard.”
A few days before, our daughter-in-law had warned me that there was a “weather event” expected, and the news was suggesting snowfall somewhere in the neighborhood of 60 inches of snow. Last time we had that much snow was in March 2003 when our first grandchild was born. March snowstorms aren’t a unique event, but talk about that much snow catches our attention.
My sister Jen was the one who kept me grounded by explaining that the weather forecasters were really playing it safe. According to the local Denver NBC station, the amount of snow in Denver depended on the route the front took. I saw this meme on Facebook, and it really said it all…..
Immediately after our second Lyft driver dropped us off at our Denver home, I got in my yellow bug and headed off to the grocery store. I stocked up on a few things (of course milk and bread, but other essentials like chocolate ice cream and Cheetos) to get us through the next couple of days. And then I went back home and waited for the imminent snowstorm.
And waited. And waited.
Thursday, forecasters said the snowstorm would hit on Friday morning. I talked to my son and we changed our plans to have a sleepover Friday night with his kids. If a blizzard hit, the kids could end up staying at Nana’s house for a couple of days. NONE of us wanted that.
By Friday afternoon, it was clear that there was no snow coming that night. It was expected Saturday afternoon. So the sleepover was back on for Friday night. We began receiving texts from out-of-state family and friends wishing us good luck on the blizzard.
Sometime around noon on Saturday, flakes began to fall from the sky. Here it comes, we all thought. I got the kids into my bug and we headed off to their house before the roads got dangerous. By time I arrived back home, the snow was finished. I began nibbling on the groceries which I had bought for our blizzard days.
I awoke early on Sunday morning (DST always messes up my sleeping no matter whether we’re springing ahead or falling back), and there wasn’t a flake in the air. I cooked up the sausages I had purchased to get us through the blizzard shut-in and scrambled some eggs.
About 8 o’clock yesterday morning, the predictions finally came true. The snow began to fall. It was immediately clear that this wasn’t a false alarm like Saturday. This was the real McCoy…..
I’m writing this blog post on Sunday afternoon around 4 o’clock (that would be 3 o’clock in AZ), and while it’s still snowing — and snowing hard — I don’t think it’s going to reach anywhere in the neighborhood of 60 inches. I predict a foot-and-a-half of snow when all is said and done. But I didn’t go out and get my meteorologist degree last night.
The good news was around 11 o’clock yesterday morning, I heard the sounds of shoveling out on our driveway. Sure enough, there were Adelaide and Alastair, shoveling our driveway and sidewalks. They came in for hot chocolate afterwards, and promised a return visit once the snow stopped.
And as an aside, when the two came into our house, Alastair admitted that he had no shirt on underneath his coat. He had to borrow a shirt from his Papa in order to drink his hot chocolate. Oh, to be a 15-year-old boy again. All that testosterone to keep you warm.