A white, “buried” Christmas in

by Buckley Jensen

The masochists among us, who start praying for a white Christmas in November, may reconsider in future years.

We not only got the biggest white Christmas in recent memory, but we are now buried in the white stuff. Those who have shoveled themselves out nearly every day the past week may soon be praying for spring more fervently than they did for a snowy Christmas.

Monticello had a healthy helping of the white stuff on the ground early in the week. But it snowed intermittently most of December 24. From early afternoon on Christmas Eve until about 5 a.m. on December 26, 36 hours later, snow fell from the dark skies continually.

The Sno-tel measuring station at Camp Jackson on Blue Mountain showed 5” of water in 28” of snow on Christmas Eve. By midnight on Christmas day, (30 hours later), Camp Jackson was reporting 43” of snow containing 7.5” of water. Two and one-half inches of water in a single storm is rare here in the desert.

In terms of next year’s run-off, it is a blessing. From a shoveling perspective, it was a disaster. Shovel off the walk and the driveway and the next time you look out, they are both buried again. That has been the routine all week.

Some who opened doors early Friday morning (those without covered porches) were greeted by drifts half way up the doorway. Our drift was only 42” high, but that was after the top third fell backwards into the living room.

The San Juan County Sheriff’s department reported no bad accidents on Christmas day. Actually personnel there were incredulous that anyone bothered to ask. “Nobody could get outside to have an accident,” they replied. “Duh”?

Since most of us could not afford many presents this year, it was nice the Big Weather Guy in the sky substituted lots of the fluffy white stuff to compensate a little for the lousy economy. When it all melts and fills our reservoirs next summer, we will be glad we got it.

It is hard to tell how much snow we got because of the drifting, but for those who have been on the back-end of a shovel most of the week, it is the deepest whitest Christmas day anyone can remember.

They say storms come in threes. So keep that snow shovel handy.