Lake effect?
But it's not even winter yet . . .
“Lake effect snow causing travel hazards,” announced the TV weather forecaster, standing before a technicolor map of the upper Midwest. With apologies to fellow Iowa Writers’ Collaborative member and meteorologist Chris Gloninger, I translate that to mean air moving over open water picks up moisture that gets dumped as snow when it encounters cold land.
Growing up in Warren County, near Indianola, the only real lake we knew was Ahquabi, a 118-acre impoundment in a state park where we occasionally picnicked, fished, swam, and attended church camp. We kids also welcomed a snowy day or two each winter when school got called off because it wasn’t safe for buses to be out on slick roads. Hard to blame that on Ahquabi, though.
Back then, when we saw the obligatory wintertime pictures of head-high drifts of “lake effect” snow in Buffalo, New York, we shrugged. That was New York, along Lake Erie, far from the farm fields of Iowa.
Last week, many decades later, “lake effect,” became more of a reality, as we planned a holiday visit to our son, Andy, and daughter-in-law, Suzanne, at their retreat on tiny (33-acre) Weber Lake, in Iron County, Wisconsin. Iron County just happens to be on the south shore of a slightly larger lake that the Ojibwe named gichi-gami. (We immigrants call it Superior.)
Today, skiers and snowmobilers flock to Iron County for – what else? – Lake Superior’s lake effect snow!
But that’s just in winter? Right?
Not this year! When the National Weather Service predicted two or three feet of snow and blizzard conditions in Iron County over the Thanksgiving (still autumn!) weekend, we did what any rational (?) travelers would do. We headed NORTH early to beat the storm.
Short version: the trip went fine, because we detoured to Cable, Wisconsin, to first visit our daughter, Emily. Cable is farther from Gichi-Gami, so the region received only 8-10 inches of “lake effect,” versus Iron County’s predicted three feet.
While our son’s family shoveled their way in and out of their home, and had to acquire a portable generator to cope with a power outage, Margaret and Emily and I took a hike in the winter wonderland and watched a procession of birds at the feeder.
A lone red squirrel coveted the sunflower seeds in the window feeder – but had to settle for nibbling the crumbs dropped by busy chickadees and nuthatches. At South Twin Lake, outside of Cable, we caught a glimpse of several otters, who were oblivious to the snow and cold water.
We listened to the roaring winds at night, and had to trudge around a few fallen limbs and trees on our morning walk. The hemlocks and balsam firs bent gracefully under the weight of the sticky snow.
Emily, who is an avid cross-country skier, strapped on her skis for the first time of the season, and was delighted to have the unplowed road to herself. She wisely donned an yellow-orange safety vest, since the deer season was still open.
But there were no snowmobilers to share the trails with, since most of those trails do not open until after gun hunting ends.
Luckily, we tried to keep our plans flexible. When the National Weather Service said a major blast of snow was due to hit Iowa on the weekend, we chose to try to beat the weather once again, by heading SOUTH to our home in northeast Iowa, where the snow would might arrive more slowly. We were reluctant to leave the scenic, wintery landscape of the Northwoods behind. But staying abreast of – and ahead of - the weather gave us the opportunity for a leisurely drive through central Wisconsin farm country, well south of the snow belt.
We also took time to stop along the Mississippi River near Brownsville, Minnesota, to marvel at thousands of migrating tundra swans that still were lingering in the backwaters. The magnificent white birds dabbled and fed in the shallows, their haunting calls echoing over the vast river bottoms. We trust that the swans remained flexible, too, as ice is rapidly covering the Mississippi marshes. Most birds now have veered EAST on their annual trip to their coastal wintering sites on Chesapeake Bay.
Back home with a fire in our wood stove and the bird feeders ready for all comers, our plans remain . . . flexible.
Hot soup for lunch. Bird watching. Snow photos. And, with help from a neighbor, the tractor has tire chains and blade mounted and ready to move the snow . . . Another story?
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Thanks, Steve! Gotta be careful about being immersed this time of year!
Fabulous photos, as usual, Larry! Have to admit that I don't miss winters in northern Iowa. Although today, my farm in Wayne County looks like it belongs up north, I am guessing 5-6 inches so far but it turned above freezing this afternoon and the snow is sinking under its own weight. I have no need to go anywhere for days, expect much will have melted in the coming week. Love your stories!