Items
Tag is exactly
snow
-
2021-01-30
A View from My Window
During a difficult time in which we are separated from one another, it is important to make the most out of every small moment. We don't notice all the tiny things that pass us by each day. This is my view. -
2021-02-16
A Journey for the Jab
With the start of 2021, I was excited for the prospect of the vaccines that were starting to get rolled out. I knew at the beginning that I would be one of the firsts to get it because I was a teacher in Texas, where we had only had 3 weeks of online school, and the rest of the year had been in person. That high risk meant that by the end of January, the first week teachers were allowed to get the first shot, I signed up at the nearest hospital who had the Pfizer vaccine. The first one went without a hitch, with barely some soreness in my arm in the week following. It is the second shot that was a bit derailed. The week I was supposed to get my second shot, Texas was hit by one of the worst snow storms we have ever faced, and millions lost power. My apartment had rolling black outs the first day, and my apartment became colder and colder. My partner and I initially thought to stick it out, piling cover after cover of blankets and huddling close for warmth. Then, at 6PM that night, the power went out and never came back and we were driven into darkness and the cold seeped into our bones. We made the decision to suffer the cold, icy roads, and the long journey to my partner’s parents’ house, which had not lost power. We packed up the food in coolers, feeling for what may have spoiled during the blackouts, and feeling for what remained cold and frozen. We shoved as much as would fit and headed out. The drive is normally only 35 minutes, but with no snow tires and ice everywhere, we could not travel more than 30 miles an hour. As we reversed out of our spot, you could immediately feel the tires lose their traction and hear them spin loosely over the ice that had gathered under the truck. As we began our journey, the heater finally began blasting our faces with air that slowly began to warm up, and started the long process of thawing our frozen limbs. Two hours on this slow trek, constantly worried about sections of black ice, and losing control of tires, both ours and others, but we finally made it to their home. The first thing we noticed when we entered through their door was the strong smells of hot chocolate being prepared on the stove. The next day, when my appointment was set for the second dose of the vaccine, I called and asked if they were still giving the vaccine or if I should reschedule, and was told that I would lose my spot if I rescheduled because they only had so many doses at this time and did not want to have any go to waste. My partner’s parents decided to drive all of us to the hospital. Several times on this trip, we heard the squeal and slam of cars losing control of their cars and careening into one another. We all held our breaths at each close encounter, and did not realize until we reached the hospital how we had all clenched our bodies in tension. It was not until we pulled into the parking garage that I heard all of us let out a collective sigh of relief. I went in for my second shot as the family stayed on the first floor, waiting out of the cold but away from the mass of bodies huddling to be let into the hospital. Inside, I quickly walked down the hall, not wanting to make my partner and his family have to wait too long for me, and I was gently guided through the path by the volunteer staff. Because of the cold, I had worn three long sleeve layers, and found after much stretching that it was not possible for the nurse to get at my arm to receive the shot. Feeling the burn on my cheeks in embarrassment, as I had to publicly remove the top to layers, and pull my bottom shirt over my head. The cold of the room chilled my body, and I had to stop myself from shivering. With the second shot complete, and as I headed to the room to wait the required 20 minutes to make sure I did not have any immediate reaction to the shot, I was stopped dead in my tracks when I saw my partner and his family being ushered into the room. My partner was not yet eligible for the shot, and we both had had arguments with his parents about the shots, since they didn’t believe in needing them. I later found out that a nurse had been looking in the hospital lobby for anyone who hadn’t had their shots to come up because they had 5 extra shots that would be expiring if no one received them soon. Somehow, my partner in that split moment where they were being given this golden opportunity, shouted yes for all of them, and began shoving his parents down to the room before they could protest. Once we had all piled back into the truck after all four of us received our shots, we went home as quickly as we safely could. Though I had had no reaction to the first shot, this second dose threw me for a loop. That night, the chills began. Even as the house had its heat blasting on full, and I was sitting as close to the fireplace as I could safely sit, my teeth could be heard chattering across the living room. My head began pounding, and I fell into a deep sleep an hour later. Thankfully, the cold was gone from my body when I awoke the next morning, and two days later, the snow had melted enough, and our power was restored to return home. The pandemic has induced so much fear and anxiety in all of us over these last two years, have really made me so much more aware of those around me, but for me, when I think about the vaccines, and the reluctance of those who can receive them but don’t, I think about the treacherous journey I was forced to make to get mine. I think about the cold. I think about the squealing tires. I think about how terrible I felt after my second dose. And I also think about the relief at knowing that all of this awfulness led to my partner’s parents suddenly getting vaccinated. For that alone, I would experience the fear of the snowstorm once again. -
2021-01
Wolfeboro Storm Damage
These are two screenshots of a post and comment from the official Camp Wolfeboro Facebook page talking about damage the camp sustained in January 2021 from storms. The post provides a donation link for people to donate money to fix the damage; the post notes the donation goal is $20,000. The post notes that 40 trees fell in camp and that the water heater shed was destroyed. A comment left by the camp account under the post says "At this time, about 40 trees down in camp and on the road. The water heater shed has also been destroyed. This information is as of Sunday, no news on the storms of the past 48 hours". The post was uploaded on January 27, 2021. -
2020-12-19
College students having fun when the school were under lockdown
Colleges in China are under lockdown, no students can leave the campus unless with special circumstances or personal business. The Ha'erbin Province had its first snow in the winter, students were very excited that they can have snow fight had it brought some entertainment as they got limited entertainment on campus. Over 200 students and teachers came out and played together. -
2020-07-06
Snow trip before the storm
HIST30060 This is a photograph I took from the top of Mount Buffalo overlooking the Ovens Valley on the 6th of July, a day before Premier Daniel Andrews announced a second lockdown in Victoria. My extended family decided to take this trip during the first week of winter school holidays to enjoy the snow. We were especially keen to go to support the local economy as it had also been devastated by the bushfires. I recall a shared feeling of elation at being able to go on holidays together once more; however, there was a sense of trepidation at the increasing numbers of Covid-19 cases in Melbourne. When the second lockdown was announced, I remember being scared of going back into lockdown, and unsure of whether I should stay in Melbourne or move back in with my parents in Ballarat. Eventually, I decided to cut my holiday short to drive back to Melbourne, pack up my things and move back in with my parents in regional Victoria. -
2020-04-15
Snowy woods, Spring time working remotely from Brooklyn College
The winter seemed to go on forever -
2020-03-20
By the time you read this, it will already be obsolete
They say in Vermont, if you don’t like the weather, just wait five minutes for it to change. I haven’t found it true of clouds or rain, but the news is on an hourly refresh: constantly changing, though never for the better. The world’s gone to dog time. Days have telescoped to weeks. Last week feels like a different era entirely, when kids went to school, businesses stayed open, you could grab lunch in town or take the cat to the vet. After days of pouring over graphs, I could redraw contagion curves from memory, but it all seems strangely theoretical. The number of reported cases in Vermont is still less than a block in Wuhan or Milan. And it’s never that busy here, so the towns look pretty much normal. Nationally and worldwide, the deaths are still lower than the flu, lower than heart disease, lower than car accidents, and yet the trajectories explode like a flushed grouse. While these fears, statistics, and calculations swoop through my brain, the real birds have returned: lines of geese, honking encouragement as they struggle against the wind; gangs of grackles, blackbirds and starlings descending on our feeders and glistening in the cloudy half-light. We should really bring our feeders in, as the warmth has awakened the bears. Last year the ground was frozen nearly until May. This year the snow vanished a few days before the pandemic arrived, winter evaporating as quickly as our former lives. My husband and kids, home all the time now, help me rake away last year’s leaves, uncovering bright shoots of daffodils, and yellow and purple crocuses already blooming. Soon the frogs will shout their odes to fertility from every pond, sending out an aural map of still water. Each time I go outside, my spirits lift, just a little, as non-human life goes on the way it always has, and the world tilts slowly toward warmth. -
2020-04-04
Deep Snow and empty trail
Even in times of a pandemic, there are places in our country where the trees outnumber the people and snow in April feels like it is washing away the plague... We were the only people on this narrow trail in Mueller State Park CO where in some spots the snow was knee high. -
2020-02-07
How people remember doctor Wen liang Lee in Beijing
Tong Hui Riverside, a citizen of Beijing, China, noticed the words "Farewell to Li Wenliang" in the snow and decided to lie down on the right side of the word "Liang" to print an exclamation mark of this era. -
2020-03-05
Skiing in Big Sky, Montana
Life goes on in the "Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave."