The common view seems to be that the meteorological haruspexes are guilty of overhype and unnecessarily fomenting mass hysteria because the recent storm turned out to be no big deal in New York City. I wish you all to know that there is life outside of Manhattan. When I went to bed Monday night there was coating of snow. When I woke up, there was two feet. I struggled all morning to get the driveway open with my little tractor but it was impossible. And it kept snowing. All day. We wound up with more than 30 inches.
That is a huge amount of snow in one dump. I wound up hiring a guy with a honking F-150 who managed to open a road to my house. But before the days of F-150s, country folk who got hit with snow had to wade through it to the stable and hitch up the sleigh if they wanted to go anywhere. No fun for the horses, I expect. The Indians had snowshoes but it must have been a hard time for them. According to William Cronon (Changes in the Land), they just took it as normal to be hungry all winter.
So that's two days I couldn't get to work. Not the end of the world but still a disruptive event. I am now frustrated, tired and grumpy.