Ice is in the forecast again, though it probably won’t get this far to the coast. In the last storm, we cleared barely an inch of frozen stuff, and for four nights in a row we stayed up later than usual, celebrating an altered schedule on the school calendar the next day. Our northern friends were shaking their heads over the standstill the ice wrought, and the pure joy with which we embraced it, but y’all just need to get over it. We recognize that we’re lucky– we were spared the downed power lines and gridlock on treacherous roads that other cities had.  The Charleston Metro area shut down early and completely.  So I thought I would send just one more post about ice on the island.

I went to school in the land of horizontal snow, and donned cross country skis most days between November and well, June, but this was still magical.  And when I taught in North Carolina and Virginia, some of my favorite memories involve snowstorms: the night our principal encouraged our celebration of school’s closing by sending around a four-wheel-drive vehicle to collect us all for midnight sledding (yes, the teachers!,) the time we sang carols at Wolftrap farm park while making snowmen, an impromptu sleepover with seven kids and four adults after the roads became too treacherous to navigate home, reading a book by firelight while the snow fell outside, silently changing the appearance of everything.  Part of the poetry of it all is that weather is beyond our control.  It’s okay to be reminded that we’re not in charge of everything.

We moved to Charleston over a decade ago, with a moving van full of stuff we would never need here, including sleds.  Our neighbor laughed at us:  “If we do ever get snow,” she explained, “look around: there aren’t any hills.”  Eventually the sleds were sent back north with visitors.  My youngest was 13 months old, and the only other time there was enough snow to make a snowball, he was seven, and we happened to be out of town.  He tried not to sulk (or cry) the entire weekend as friends emailed and texted us photos of our dog and our house and our friends in the snow.  We got home 20 hours after 3 inches of snow fell.  Not a flake remained.

So we watched as the storm approached.  We checked the weather forecast and tried not to get too excited as the snowflake icon stayed up there.  We filled water bottles with drinking water, because in the last deep freeze, the island’s R-O drinking water fountain broke a fitting.  We stocked up on fresh food and toilet paper and cat food and wine.  And when the weather came, and the city shut down, (as well as ferry service to our island) we waited for the snow and ice.  We started to visit all our neighbors, until we discovered black ice on their staircases and thought better of it.  And in the morning, our kids were up as early as they are on school days, ready to throw snow, and slip on the ice, and measure the icicles, and marvel at the way the ice fell off a tree and created a perfect ice-leaf, lying there on the snow.  Literally marooned on the island for a few days, we could enjoy the beauty of a new perspective, and watch our familiar landscapes look totally different.

By Friday morning (ice started Tuesday night), most of the roads on the island were both clear of snow and fallen trees, though ice crystals remain in the shady areas, and the trees and grasses still sparkle.  Ferry service resumed, and the bridges to Mount Pleasant and the Isle of Palms opened, although the Ravenel Bridge closed again quickly due to falling ice sheets from the supports, which damaged windshields and terrified drivers.  We checked out most of the island, read books in front of the fire, rescued a warbler trapped in the gazebo by the ocean, watched a robin navigate ice-covered berries, spied a huge flock of cedar waxwings, marveled at the eagle, sitting on her nest amid the icicles and and snowflakes, and reveled in the sudden gift of our transformed island.  

Eagle hunting in the frozen marsh (photo Reggie Fairchild)

I broke out a new macro lens to capture the ice: the ice leaves that melted and rattled to the snow: