When it snows, ain't it thrillin'...

Unless that snow is accompanied by blowing winds and sub-zero temperatures, and a death-defying (at least in my mind) ride down I-90 and 787 on highway roads that were of the “Make-Your-Own-Car-Lane” variety.


Monday, December 27th – a day that will live on in infamy, (once again, at least in my mind). It began at 6am when my husband roused me gently from sleep (with a shove to the side and a growled “Get up! The alarm went off!”). It took me a few moments to open my eyes and remember where I was. But once I did I bounced out of bed, fingers and toes crossed in the hopes that either the snow was sooooo bad that nobody would ever venture out in it or that the weather forecasters had once again made a mountain out of a couple inches of snow. Neither hope won out. The snow was not so bad that nobody would ever venture out in it and the forecasters had been pretty accurate in their predictions. My husband obligingly got out of bed and dressed, as did I, in preparation for snow shoveling. Never fear concerned readers, my mother-in-law, moved to action by my pathetic admission of bootlessness in my last post, gifted me with a pair of bona fide boots for Christmas. That was the one highlight of my morning – slipping my feet in to nice warm boots and having said footsies stay dry while I got a cardio workout shoveling snow. The snow wasn’t too heavy but there was a lot of it. A lot of it. I paused for a moment in wonder as a backhoe made a third trip around my street to clear it of snow. A backhoe? Things must be bad out there.

By 7am the driveway had been shoveled and the cars cleared of snow. Mother Nature had thoughtfully deposited another ½ inch of snow on the space already cleared. I walked back inside, checked weather reports one more time, praying for some statement prepared by the Government of New York State advising New Yorkers in general, but Historic Cherry Hill’s Communications Coordinator in particular, to stay off the roads. A call from the Director came and like a child waiting breathlessly for news that school was cancelled, I leaped at the sound and answered. No such luck. Apparently in the real world, people with jobs are expected to go to work. Crazy, crazy notion. The word from the Boss was that Joe the Hammer was coming in to work. Since I had foolishly volunteered to take the early shift for once (of course on the first major snowfall of the year) it looked like the restoration project, like the postal service, would be stopped by nothing - I was heading for work. My husband, stood with concern, watching my departure. Or at least I thought it was concern until I realized he was putting together the new snow rake he had just got and that his back was actually to me.

The roads were delightful, and I maintained a bare-knuckled grip on the steering wheel all the way to work. Once I arrived, after driving at a breakneck 30 mph on the highway I found that although the driveway had been plowed at some point, it was buried once again and that the city’s plows had blocked up both entrances. Luckily I had the foresight to carry a shovel with me, more because I thought for sure I would need it to dig myself out of a ditch, but happy to use it in a less dire situation. As I stood at the base of the driveway, shoveling out a big enough space to pull my car off of South Pearl Street, Joe the Hammer came driving up. With his window down he shouted across the road to me “We only got 1 ½ inches of snow where I live.” Which apparently is on the equator. With The Hammer’s arrival as my relief pitcher, so to speak, he took over the shoveling for me while I waded up the driveway and dug out the door to the museum to get inside and find another snow shovel. By the time I had located one in the outside ladder room, The Hammer had finished shoveling and he moved my car into the parking lot.

The Hammer’s inspection of the windows found that snow blew in around one of the temporary windows located at the back of the house. He cleaned up the mess and packed that window as well as other temporary windows with foam, (sealed with tape in some cases), to prevent a repeat occurrence in another room of the house. His plan for the day had been to work outside setting up the scaffolding on the south side of the east façade, in preparation for sill work! Joyous news. But for now, because of the wind and super cold temperatures outside, that work will be put off until weather conditions improve.

If you look closely, you can see some of the foam Joe the Hammer used to fill in space on either side of the window.

A close-up of the foam

Tape used to cover a gap.

The only temporary window which the snow was able to breach.

The south side of the east facade and the future site of scaffolding.

An example of how the blowing snow covered everything!  This is the screen door of the entrance into the museum.

The Hammer's car made it up the Hill but my poor little minivan didn't stand a chance.