Remember a couple of weeks ago when I said, because of global warming, it was never going to snow in Iowa ever again? You knew I was just kidding, right?
The first in a series of storms last week that dumped over a foot of snow was the heaviest we’ve had in at least ten years. The storm was so significant, the weather people even gave it a name: “Finn.” The snow Finn made was wet and sticky. It stuck to shovels, it stuck to powerlines. Most of all, it stuck to trees. In fact, there was so much snow sticking to trees, it deserves to have its own name: Treesnow.
It has been reported that the Inuit (formerly known as Eskimos) have upwards of 52 names for snow. While some linguists are skeptical of the number, most agree that the Inuit do distinguish between many types of snow. There is aputi, snow on the ground and qanik, falling snow and pukak, crystalline snow that looks like salt and maujaq, wet snow and so forth.
Even in Iowa, we see that all snows are not the same. Treesnow, for example, is a stealthy snow that hides in plain sight. It lurks on branches until the sun or wind dislodges it, sending big clumps of the stuff hurtling to the ground with a whomp. Treesnow is sometimes shaken loose by pranksters onto unsuspecting friends. This is known as getting a “Minneapolis sauna.” (Okay, I made that up.)
Then there is car seat snow. When opening the door of a snowy car, no matter how slow and careful you are, a showering of fine snow crystals is sucked in from the roof, covering the seat just as you are getting ready to sit down.
Wheelwell snow is very different from car seat snow, made up of ice and dirt and packed snow, approximately the same hardness as asphalt. You can try to kick it loose from around your tires, but it might be safer to wait for the spring thaw. Wheelwell snow shares some characteristics with driveway blocker snow. This is created by snowplows that scrape up ice and snow and gravel and soda cans and dog doodoo off the street and pile it two feet high across your driveway so nobody can get in or out unless they’ve got a pick ax.
It doesn’t happen often in Iowa, but sometimes during a blizzard it can get so cold that the inside of your nose fills up with snow, freezes and sticks together. Booger snow.
Ankle snow is familiar especially to mothers and small children. This particular kind of snow forms down the inside of shoes and boots, accumulating in an icy ring around ankles during school recess. Ankle snow sticks to socks and can stay frozen for hours.
When snow gets really deep, there is dog jumping snow. Our greyhound generally has no use for snow until it reaches up to his chin. But at that point, he plunges in wildly, momentarily disappearing under the snow and bursting through again, leaping across the yard like a porpoise. Even though it’s freezing cold, he acts like he’s having fun. I think he’s just showing off.