It's a dark day for the Buffalo Chamber of Commerce - to say nothing of the quarter million people already without power.
My wool slacks, skirts and blazers are at the dry cleaners for Tuesday pick up. The snow brushes and other winter car paraphenalia are still in a box in the basement. Winter is not supposed to happen yet.
My car is parked on the street unrecognizable as a white mound with large broken tree limbs snaked around it . We're at 18 inches in the city right now with the potential to go to 30.
At our house, we have heat and we have electricity. We are among the fortunate few. The candles are massed strategically around the house in the expectation that our turn will come.
When the snow started yesterday it was a bizartre fluke -- exciting , even a little exhiliatating.
At about 1 p.m., I went to my car to get something I'd forgotten. Hail was blowing and stinging sideways and my umbrella turned inside out.
This was October. No big deal.
My phone was ringing when I got back inside the office. Charlie was on the line and incredulous. "It's snowing. Big fat, fluffy flakes," he said. My sweet southern boy, I thought, didn't even know the difference between snow and sleet.
It won't stick, we agreed, the ground was too warm.
Within 20 minutes my colleagues were gathering around the windows - the snow had arrived.
By 5 p.m. it was "sticking." I drove a co-worker to his daughter's swim meet in bumper-to-bumper traffic - the elevated portions of the freeway glazing over and tires spinning before they caught. Still no big deal.
I was delighted to get home and see Charlie outside shovelling the first sidewalk in his adult life. Lily, the pup, had run in wild circles when she had her first snow contact earlier. This was still fun.
I grabbed the camera and took some shots of our front yard. With the leaves still on the tress, the snow was piling on. But at this point it was still pretty and passive.
We bundled up and headed to our favorite neighborhood Greek diner. We sat by the window and watched young men, underdressed for the weather, trying to knock the snow off canvas awnings as one across the street had already ripped through. Canvas awnings shading business windows are usually well stored by the first snow.
We stopped at the convenience store and heard the first reports of the other end of our street blocked with fallen trees , at least one crushing a porch.
It was about here it stopped being quaint.
Through the night, it was hard to discern between the cracking of thunder and tree limbs.
I've been listening to the television "special report" through the morning - knowing we are among the fortunate few who are still plugged in. They are saying those without power may not see it again until Monday.
The cats, Georgia born and raised , can't stay away from the windows. I can't even imagine what they are thinking. Sadie, who clearly has never seen "A Christmas Story" keeps licking the pane.
It's supposed to get back up in the 50s and then 60s by next weekend, but the long range forecast for THIS weekend was 85 degrees - Indian Summer, the weatherman said then.
Looks like we got Eskimo October instead.
The burbs started checking off last night, it became a state of emergency in the city at 4 a.m.. Still, this is so much better than hurricanes. My front yard still looks like a Christmas card.
It's a good day for warm socks, fuzzy fleece,scrapbooking, and beading. The office email is blessedly out.
We're in a warm and safe cocoon. Thoughts and prayers are with those stuck on the highways and challenged without electricity.
The forecast is now snow for the next five or six hours, followed by rain and then snow again tonight.
In our house, there's a lot of hot chocolate in the forecast.


Copyright 2006 Judi Griggs