Last weekend we hosted the Karahalis family and spent a good 50% of our time with them outdoors in the sunshine, surrounded by freshly planted flowers, hanging baskets, new porch furniture, and warmth.
Two days later, we were preparing for a giant snowstorm, which ended up going down as the heaviest late-May snowstorm in 74 years. We've seen plenty of May snow, but this storm was especially destructive.
It's a good thing I love to take pictures of blooming trees, because spoiler alert: not many blooming things survived this storm.
By early Thursday morning, the snow had already started. I took a picture out the window to send to our neighbors—they're in Florida for a wedding and because they moved from Hawaii last summer, I needed photographic proof that I wasn't making it up, haha.
As the day went on yesterday the trees were more and more damaged. Big old cottonwood branches are down everywhere and this happy tree behind our house and every tree like it on base is split in multiple places. I can't imagine they'll recover. Spring snow is painfully heavy.
I thought for sure the district would cancel school today, especially since they pretty much told the rural kids to stay home and we know what a bad idea it is to call school off early in this town, but nope. Maddie woke me up at 5:30 to see if there was a snow day (gah) and was furious about having to bundle up for school, but that's the way it goes. I was reminded that while May moves are already pretty bad, a May move in the middle of a giant snowstorm is truly the worst. I might print this picture out for the fridge next time we're getting ready to move to remind me of that perspective.
Ellie had the best time, even though we looked like White Walkers when we returned home—seriously, just plastered in snow. But she certainly isn't going to skip her daily routine for some weather. I find it hilarious that I took what amounts to the same picture today as I did four years ago. She loves snow.
I had a meeting with a client who was over from Laramie so trudged out for that, and when I returned home I shut the garage door and nearly got knocked out by the snow that fell off the roof onto my head, down my coat, in my bag... except for a few seconds I had no idea what had happened and I jumped ten feet in the air because it startled me so much. I'm glad my neighbors are in Florida and not watching me from their kitchen sink, which I happen to know for a fact is a front row seat to any antics that take place at our current house having washed my dishes over there for three years.
As I reached outside trying to get the mail yesterday without the door blowing off the hinges while being pelted in the face by spring snow, I rolled my eyes. Unfairly, yes—it isn't Martha's fault that spring in the mountain west is ridiculous. But really, that's just mean.