A pictorial essay of the Great Snowstorm of 2010.

Before the storm, it was being referred to as "Snowpocalypse." This morning, D.C. writer Mark Steyn (National Review) described it this way at The Corner: . . . most of The Corner's metropolitan pantywaists seem to be cowering in terror from the light flurry devastating Washington this morning . . . This is the city that received over 30 inches of snow in the last two days.

Here at the Bensrib house, we escaped with a lesser beating. We think we got about a foot, but it's hard to tell because we still had snow left from last weekend. This snow, however, was wet and heavy, making a real mess, unless you enjoy four inches of solid ice underneath your foot of snow. Pete and I had fun slipping and sliding down the road today. Because Pete is such a well-trained animal, as soon as I put the leash on him, he wants to walk right at my left side. This is hard to accomplish when the tire track you're walking in is only 6 inches wide. I kept shoving him over to the other track and he kept jumping back in mine, knocking me off my feet sideways. He's a thinker.

We were without power from 9 Saturday morning until a little after noon today, Sunday, which was just long enough to convince me I never want to be without a flushing toilet and my Bunn coffee maker again. There were some light moments however. I'll let the photos tell the story . . .

Friday, 5 p.m.:

 

Saturday morning (it continued to snow all day and into the evening):

 

We lose power at 9 a.m. so there's nothing to do but melt water on the woodstove and go outside to ward off boredom. The tree across the road in front of our house:

 

 Our new freezer (Yes, that's ice cream stuck in the snowbank. Before it's over, we'll also have eggs and chicken there.):

 And here's the refrigerator:

 

Further up the street walking toward the entrance to the subdivision, this is what we saw:

 

We're very thankful we had a woodstove, so at least we didn't get cold. And it makes a handy cooking surface:

Once we were finished with dinner, there wasn't anything to do but have a family rummy tournament by candlelight (Mike is squinting because it was dark and I warned them the flash was coming):

Sunday morning, the guys walked through the subdivision with a chainsaw clearing the roads so the plows could get in, though we still haven't seen one. They cut up and hauled about 30 trees into the woods.

 

I'm ready for flip-flop weather.

Be thankful ~

Karen