February 26, 2026 by chipbruce

Warming center

The Blizzards of 2026 started for us around January 25.

From inconvenience to danger

We’ve experienced several feet of snow and near-hurricane force winds. That’s led to power outage, loss of internet and cell connectivity, downed trees and fences, impassable driveway and roads, and other problems.

We have a wood stove and plenty of firewood, plus a propane-powered generator that keeps some essential services going, such as the well pump. But others are not so fortunate. An acquaintance is home bound with a terminal illness. His visiting nurse can’t get to him because the roads are blocked.

In our case, a small problem has been that we couldn’t call for help because our cell service went from feeble to non-existent and the internet connection was out.

The local superette is one of the few places open with food. They have no power, so shopping means to walk around with a flashlight to find something edible. We bag the item and write down its price in a notebook, On checkout, we report what we find. There’s no working cash register or scanner. Transactions are cash only.

Enter the warming center

One bright spot in all of this are the warming centers. We enjoyed one at the Eastham library. It’s yet another reminder of the wonderful things that a library can do. It meets community needs and is open to everyone,

In the Eastham center, there’s plenty of water, hot coffee, and half & half. Library staff brought in food–green salad, turkey salad, and pizza. There are newspapers and power chargers. A couple are working on jigsaw puzzles. A parent is playing cards with a seven year-old. People see old friends and acquaintances. They learn about weather, road conditions, and specialty health services.

Other warming centers are at churches, the fire department, the high school, and other public places (with generators). Some have cots and blankets.

March 2, 2015 by chipbruce

Frozen

“The snow glows white on the mountain tonight.”

We and all our neighbors have given up on seeing an end to this winter. The mail is no longer delivered because the mailbox is encased somewhere within a large snowbank, well packed by the city snowplow. We know that the days are few until everything will be covered in snow and ice. We resist through cross-country skiing, sledding, or sculpting snow, but we know that those efforts are futile.

Most of the garden plants are deeply buried, but an hydrangea pokes its branches up only to be ice wrapped. What we used to call the front entrance has become a pile of snow. The propane tank is hardly uncovered and accessible as the supplier requires, but our iron sculpture marks where we remember it being. The deck looks like a comfy pillow, rather than a site for cook-outs.

One massive icicle comes off the back roof, drops down eight feet to connect with an ice-encased iron fish, then continues three feet below the deck. It must weigh over 50 pounds.