Day 2188 Blizzard of 2026

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The Blizzard of 2026 dumped 37.9 inches of snow, setting a new record and surpassing the historic Blizzard of 1978. I believe what made the '78 storm worse was the timing, it began around 10 a.m., when everyone was already at work. People struggled to get home, many were stranded on the highway, and plows had trouble navigating roads clogged with abandoned vehicles.

I was living out in the woods at the time and remember losing power for two weeks, ugh. We had well water,  so without electricity, we were also without water. That experience might be why I’m such a stickler for being storm-ready at all times!

This storm, thankfully, came with plenty of notice. Snowfall began at night while everyone was safely home, and a quick state of emergency was declared along with a driving ban, so the plows could do their work. More than 41,000 people have been without power during this storm, but here Tim and I sit in the lap of luxury, with the lights still on, enough storm snacks to feast like royalty, warmth and our basement cat venturing out more and more for Tim’s attention (as long as the TV stays off, apparently it’s not just the volume; if it’s on at all, she’s out!).

I ventured outside during the height of the storm to feed and check on my chickens, shoveling a path to their coop. I was especially thankful we placed it close to the house, even if it’s an eyesore. My girls were happy to see me, even happier for a few fresh treats, and seemed to be in good spirits, warm and sheltered from the storm. Getting to them wasn’t easy; I stepped into drifts up to my waist but admit I loved every minute of it.  After shoveling out my girls,  I shoveled a path to the bird feeder, and once it was replenished, countless wild birds arrived to enjoy the feast.

I fully expected our power to go out at some point and had candles, batteries, and lanterns at the ready, but they were never needed. Staying warm and cozy certainly makes it easier to appreciate the beauty of a storm like this. Digging out, however, will be another story.

For now, though, we’re grateful for preparation, for comfort, and for the quiet magic that only a snowstorm can bring. There’s something special about watching the world slow down under a blanket of white snow, knowing you’re safe, warm, and exactly where you’re meant to be. Home Sweet Home. 

“To appreciate the beauty of a snowflake it is necessary to stand out in the cold.” ~ Aristotle