I have lived through almost a century of weather hereabouts, and I don’t recall anything like what we’re getting.

My dad lived to an age I shared this past week, and he had a way to deal with someone in nature up there for something like this.

If we were in the middle of a drought during growing season, he’d stand in the thirsting garden, look upward at the first rumble of thunder and shout —

“Send her down, Davy!”

Invariably, Davy would.

He never defined who Davy was, but more often than not, Davy would let us have it.

I tried it a few times, but it turned out to be just dry thunder.

I’ve been yelling, “Enough already, Davy!”

So far no luck.

No surprise either.

Never did have my father’s power over matters involving water needs.

He did that without yelling for ground water by parading around with a willow branch to locate it when the branch dipped straight down.

Never missed.

I tried several times. Got it to bend, sort of, but no luck with that either.

There’s more than enough of what seems to be snowfall until — well, the middle of May, maybe, and weather forecasters who are feasting on it.

Can’t blame them.

I must say they’ve been right on.

So have snowplow drivers, and let us be generously thankful for what they’ve been doing street after street, up one side and down another, while those on state highways do the same as long as the snow keeps coming.

So are homeowners cleaning driveways — especially on narrow streets created in the days of horses and buggies.

Just for the record for those who may read this copy of The Daily News in Newburyport’s Public Library archives a hundred years from now, what follows is for them.

“We replaced horses and sleighs and streetcars pretty much with automobiles after I was born, and now there are more of them than ever there were.

“Householders have been doing what they can while snowplows are doing what they must, which is to keep the streets open enough for firetrucks and ambulances.

“I can’t say I have.

“I did clean off my car roof once, but daughter Suzanne and family kept beating me to it.

“I really don’t miss it.”


Bill Plante is a Newbury resident and staff columnist. His e-mail address is plantejr@comcast.net.

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