Mark Millican: The big snow job of 2025

Published 6:30 am Tuesday, January 14, 2025

The indoor sensor to our outdoor temperature gauge read 32 degrees, having been stuck there for awhile. Outside by late afternoon, the fluffy snow around two inches deep was beginning to deflate and sink because as we all know, our elementary-school textbooks seemingly lied to us when they taught water freezes at 32 degrees. The big snowfall to kick off 2025 was already melting in our Beaver Forest neighborhood.

Earlier in the day, we’d gathered some old bread and stale cheese crackers to feed the deer and crows. They appeared desperate since they too believed the false forecast of up to six inches and a shutdown of their nutrient sources. One crow alit to cram as much as it could into its beak and a larger one immediately flew by and buzzed it away, showing there is a pecking order among the boisterous black birds (pun intended).

Then after lunch I’d heard some sleet plinking outside on top of the fireplace hood, leading to concern about a power outage that was predicted due to that and freezing rain. But it didn’t last long, and by late afternoon I was getting cabin fever from working on the laptop and decided on a walk. So armed with a miniature hunting knife – to fend off any small animals desperate for a bite to eat, of course – and my cell phone for a camera, I inched down our driveway in winter gear – longjohns, Carhartt trousers bought at a secondhand store, wool socks, work boots and all the upper-body garb.

(Actually, my weapon was a pocketknife, revealing that we Southern columnists are prone to embellishment.)

Tromping through slushy snow, I marveled anew at the weather prognosticators’ big buildup and inevitable letdown. We’d listened to the Atlanta news at noon on the radio, and sure enough, it was an unseasonably hot mess down there as usual when more than a couple of snowflakes fall. Now I know there are emergencies, medical or otherwise, yet despite precautions some knucklehead motorists just have to get out on the roads and test their mettle. How was it that the roads in the lower swales of Coosawattee River Resort were clear, yet in Hot ‘Lanta they couldn’t stay on the pavement?

To make things worse, our Southern relatives in other states were getting more snow than us! Up in Virginia, two of our youngest grandsons were playing in nine inches, thanks to Winter Storm Blair. And even over in northern Alabama the grands were making a snowman thanks to several inches.

Which reminds me, my wife and I were having lunch last Thursday before the white stuff rolled in, and I remarked that wintertime storms in the South were never given names because they are so infrequent. Since the forecast for snow Friday was coming in on my wife’s birthday, she immediately responded that we would call it “Winter Storm Teresa”! So be it. However, it was more of a big snow job if you ask this humble correspondent.

The walk was uneventful, just scenic with all the evergreens looking their Christmas-tree best albeit with natural adornment. So the following day I got out again and hiked to the PO boxes. But there was no mail, and I didn’t fault the carriers for aborting their missions that morning. This time, however, the tree limbs were glistening like diamonds as their snow that had turned to ice that morning began to melt under a burgeoning sun.

I’d brought a plastic garbage bag along, and stopped to collect soda cans and bottles, beer cans and other trash some knuckleheads had cast out of their vehicles. It was just the right time along this normally busy stretch in the complex, without a lot of traffic because of the weather.

Oh well, the best part of the latest version of overblown “snowjam” in the mountains was my wife’s birthday. And, of course, she was telling everyone through her phone that the snow was ordered up just for her. I’m good with that, and scouring the woods for kindling the day before it got covered up with snow and laying up split wood on the front porch was good winter exercise. Who’s complaining? Next time I just won’t listen to weather reports – then maybe we’ll get a good, decent snow.

Notwithstanding, I’m fully aware that last week’s winter clime fit the bill for many Southerners – let it snow and be nice to look at, then melt and be gone the next day. Yet it was gratifying not having to run to town and accomplish some errand. And before the second calorie-burning walk, having some leftover coconut birthday cake for a mid-morning snack was acceptable as well. And so for any of you visitors and/or tourists who got caught with us locals in the “big” snow, take note, for that’s how we do wintertime in the North Georgia Mountains!

Just watch out for walking knuckleheads like me when you’re trying to drive in it.

Mark Millican is a retired newspaper editor and freelance writer who splits his time between Varnell and Ellijay.