The year was 2003. A substantial March spring snowstorm was headed our way, so I drove down to Nederland to grab some provisions. Fed by tropical moisture, it was the kind of upslope weather system where a late-season, slow-moving low sets up over southeastern Colorado and delivers a heavy dose of snow to the Front Range.

I’d lived through many local storms where the snow reached three to three and a half feet. Over the decades, it seems that we’ve received similar totals a couple of times a year. It was going to be a heavy, wet snow that would be difficult to clear, but would pass. The result would boost the snowpack and bring beneficial moisture to our area. I didn’t expect that storm to be any different than any other. Boy, was I wrong.

It all began innocently enough as the snow began to accumulate. At times, it didn’t seem to be falling very hard, but it just kept coming, hour after hour. One foot, two feet, three feet. Ok, that’s about enough for me. Instead of trailing off as it usually does, the snow intensified. The deck outside my great room and car were completely buried by then. The only way to keep track of the storm’s progress was to watch the snow climb up my windows. When it finally stopped after two days had passed, the view from the windows was completely obscured.

When the electricity went out, I knew I had to start a fire in the woodstove to prevent my pipes from freezing. The only problem was that my woodpile was a fair distance from the house. Shoveling a narrow path to the wood, I was able to keep my home warm.

The food I purchased before the storm was only enough to last a few days. In all, I ended up being stranded for five days. I recall that at the end of the ordeal, all I had left was a frozen fish and a can of something I didn’t like.

Snowblowers are useless in weather of this magnitude so I began carving a path with my coal shovel from the basement door by the driveway. Optimistic at what I could achieve, the path was wide enough to accommodate a car. In a trench ten feet deep, every time I tossed a shovel load up, half of it would cascade back down to my feet. The path got narrower and narrower as I inched my way uphill toward the road. When I finally broke through, the width of my escape route was down to nothing.

Dirt was showing on Hummer Drive since it had been plowed and the Sun had a chance to work its magic. With my car still days away from being freed, I thumbed a ride into town from one of my neighbors. I’ll never forget walking into the grocery store to the sight of near-empty shelves. It looked like a bomb had gone off, clearing the store of the most popular items, leaving only enough to get by on until more supplies arrived.

The most recent snowstorm shared many of the same characteristics as the one in 2003. Totaling 53 inches, it caused life-threatening access issues for a few and inconvenience for all.

For me, it wasn’t nearly as bad as last time. It would still take a couple of days to become mobile, but my much younger renters cleared the first four feet with shovels in a couple of hours and I merely tidied up with the snowblower. Uncovering my vehicle was still my responsibility so I cleared the back of it, crawled in through the hatch door, hit reverse, and blasted my way out.

Then as now, I stand in awe of Mother Nature’s capabilities. Most certainly because of having help this time, it was fun to watch and be a part of.