Happy Holidays from Green Acres!

I have received a lot of comparisons to Green Acres since I started my blog. For those of you who missed this 1960’s sit com, this series featured a successful New York lawyer who gives up the rat race to fulfill his dream: living the life of the traditional American farmer. Fighting the move to rural life is his glamorous, boa-wearing, city-loving wife. While I didn’t grow up in a large metropolitan area, it would be fair to say that I moved to the country with some reluctance. After several months of absurd adventures, I decided to start my blog to share these adventures with others.

It is hard to imagine that we have lived in rural Iowa for over two years now, and I’m happy to report that we are still alive and facing each new challenge with a laugh and our trusty Kubota. I have received so many comparisons to the old T.V. show Green Acres that I was determined to take a similar photo for our holiday letter. Unfortunately, it is a lot harder to borrow a pig than you would think. So here is my “slightly retouched” version.

Our year has been filled with adventures and misadventures as we continue to adapt to country living. As I look over my blog and remember our attempts to tame nature, bouts of poison ivy, bon fires, grass fires (oops!), tree trimming, tree falling (oops!), tree not falling (strong expletive!), cutting grass and removing snow, I am amazed that we have escaped serious injury. Dealing with the moles, chipmunks, raccoons, deer, and other wildlife has become a science experiment involving chemicals, weapons and my trusty camera. (If you can’t shoot it, shoot a photo of it!)

We are hoping that this Christmas proves more peaceful than last Christmas when the septic system backed up and we spent the majority of the day digging our daughter’s car out of a snow drift that it landed in when my husband tried to pull her up the icy driveway. I invite you to follow our crazy antics on my blog as we continue to adapt to country living. Happy holidays to all.

Theme song from Green Acres

Green acres is the place for me.
Farm livin' is the life for me.
Land spreadin' out so far and wide
Keep Manhattan, just give me that countryside.

New York is where I'd rather stay.
I get allergic smelling hay.
I just adore a penthouse view.
Dah-ling I love you but give me Park Avenue.

...The chores.
...The stores.
...Fresh air.
...Times Square

You are my wife.
Good bye, city life.
Green Acres we are there.

Saga of Snow Fences

We need a snow fence. We know this because everyone who comes up to our house for the first time, asks us if we use a snow fence. Being the clever souls that we are, we recognize that we need help, so we Googled "snow fence installation" and gathered a wealth of information. Things like:


"A drift can spread as far as 35 times the height of the fence. Therefore, the fence must be at least that far from the roadway and the distance may be farther because of irregular terrain. Also build the fence longer than the area that needs to be protected. Add 20 times the height of the fence on each end to account for wind variation." Math stuff hard!  The most daunting bit of information is the statement "proper installation of the snow fence is critical to its success." Hmmm.

Friday - Installation of the first snow fence. Posts, check. Fence, check. Zip ties, check. Printed instructions from the DOT, check, calculator, measuring instrument, bottle of vodka, check. We have determined that the snow fence needs to be 120' from the driveway. 120' is a long way. We decide to go 80'. We install the posts and tie the fence to them, noting that the wind is very strong here, making it difficult to stretch the fence and hold it taut. When we are finished, we note that our straight line is more of a zig, zag, rather than straight. It doesn't look very taut, and we are out of zip ties. Also, the posts look too short. A trip to the hardware store is needed.

Saturday - Installation of second snow fence. This time, we set the posts first, making sure they are in a straight line. THEN we attach the fence, using a few more posts and a few more zip ties. We are so proud. The fence looks straight and taut.

Tuesday - Huge wind storm. Snow fence #2 blows over. Damn it! Are you kidding me???

Thursday - Setting posts with an attitude and a vengeance. More zip ties.

Winter just 36 days away -- I checked on Google!

When life hands you ashes . . . cook wieners!

We had a terrible storm hit our county in July with winds over 130 mph. The storm caused tremendous damage throughout the county with the loss of thousands and thousands of trees, and over 400 telephone poles had to be replaced. Unfortunately, our property was not spared. We lost close to 40 trees. Some were simply blown over, while others snapped 20’ off the ground. There was debris surrounding our house and all over our 14 acres. Fortunately, our home and workshop were spared.


With the help of friends, we were able to clean up the downed trees near the house, and Gene and I have been cutting up one or two trees each weekend trying to clear the rest of the yard. It felt like we were on a treadmill going nowhere. The more we cut, the more trees there appeared to be. And then I found Dean. For the past month, this wonderful man has been helping trim trees and stack firewood. He even rented a 60’ lift to get the dangerous hanging limbs out of the tops of trees. I have felt like I was playing Russian roulette all summer long as I have mowed under these hanging branches, just waiting to be decapitated.

To say that we have created a large burn pile is the master of understatements. The burn pile has grown to 30’ X 20’ X 8’ tall. And I have been patiently waiting for the farmer to harvest the soy bean field that abuts our property. (Okay, I wasn’t patient, but I didn’t want to set fire to his crop and have the entire area talking about me!) And then came our chance . . . a nice, calm weekend day to light this puppy up and get rid of it.

I celebrated as we set fire to one corner of the pile. Had it been up to me, I would have started fires on all four sides, but Mr. Safety Conscious, my husband, suggested that the pile might be too big to handle and we should start small. My celebration lasted about five minutes until the fire lit up all the leaves and we had a serious fire on our hands. I prayed we would not set the neighbors forest on fire. I suspect that is a good way to lose friends.

Three hours after the initial lighting the torch ceremony, the fire appeared to be under control, and we were starting to get hungry. Now this is where being creative and impulsive is a good thing. I suggested that the fire coals were just about perfect for a barbecue. After all, if life hands you ashes, shouldn’t you cook wieners? Gene fabricated a wiener roaster out of a coat hanger. He seemed to think we shouldn’t use the painted hangers in case they were toxic. Always thinking, isn’t he? Just for good measure, I wrapped 4 potatoes in foil and threw them in the ashes. Next time, I will be a little less impulsive in tossing them just anywhere. They can be a bear to find later. We used the Kubota tailgate as an impromptu table. And sat out and enjoyed our lunch while monitoring the fire. This is the life!

750 wieners and 93 packages of buns later, and I still can’t get the buns to equal the same amount of wieners!

Tree Trimming

Do you think it is rude to supervise the tree trimmer?  I'm sitting in my lawn chair with a book, a camera, and a beer.  I think it is important that someone is available in case there is a disaster!

Friday Night Lights

One of the great things about living in the country is that you can burn brush and debris and not have to bundle it for the landfill. One of the bad things about living in the country is that you can burn brush even if you aren’t a qualified fire fighter.

We have had a tree trimmer out for the past couple of weeks taking down dead limbs from a summer storm. Our brush piles have grown to the size of two story buildings with no relief in sight. The trimmer asked if he could start burning some of the piles while he was working so that he could supervise them and make sure they didn’t get out of hand. The winds have been quite still and he is making a dent in all of the piles of debris. He seems to have some experience or training in brush burning, because he builds small, 3-foot piles and adds to them as the day goes by. (My approach would be to set the entire thing on fire and stand by with a small garden hose.) At the end of each day, I would go out and fuss with the embers to make sure they were out or sufficiently banked for the night.

On Friday, the breeze had picked up, so we made the decision not to burn. About 8:00 pm, I walked by the kitchen window and saw flames shooting into the air on the far side of the drive. I yelled, “Fire!” and my husband flew out of his recliner and raced to the window. Dolly dog started barking, and I knocked things off the counter in my haste to run to my shoes. With a quick, “Dolly stay!” I grabbed my cell phone as my husband grabed the keys to the truck along with a shovel (I guess we were going to beat it to death).

My heart was racing as I think that we have set an entire field on fire. I quickly called my neighbor as they could be trapped if the fire crossed their driveway, and I asked my husband if I should call 911. He suggested that I wait until we could see what was going on first (God bless him). As we backed out of the garage and looked toward the field, we realized the fire wasn’t where we thought it was.

It turns out that our new neighbor had built a bon fire two stories tall to invite the local high school football team and fans out to celebrate a football rivalry. His driveway is lined with tiki torches and half the town was invited. This gives a whole new meaning to Friday night lights!

Since I have mobilized neighbors who have called neighbors who have called . . . well you get the idea, I now have to start making calls that explain what is going on. I seem to be having a little problem with fire out here.

Poison Ivy

Why is it that when you see photos of people with poison ivy they are always smiling? There is nothing funny about poison ivy! After a recent wind storm, we were clearing trees, and it would seem that some of them were covered in poison ivy. Unfortunately, I only found out the hard way. I wore gloves and washed my hands and arms when I went inside, but four days later, I broke out in a rash on my face and arms, then small blisters appeared . . . and then the itching started. We are talking itching on a scale that you can't imagine. Then the poison ivy spread to my ankle, my knee, and so on.

Once I realized that I had poison ivy, I started searching for images online so that I could identify this noxious weed in the future. "Leaves of three, let me be," seems to be the best description out there. But raspberry bushes have three leaves and I know they aren't poison ivy. So now I'm spraying weed killer on anything that remotely looks like it has three leaves. You can hear me outside mumbling “One, two, three” spray, “One two, three,” spray. And now I'm afraid to go near the wood pile. I know there must be poison ivy there somewhere, because I keep breaking out. But after four days, who can remember everywhere they have been?

I love my sister’s comment after listening to me whine about the poison ivy. “Use your head girl. Move the woodpile!”

Things I've learned:

•  Lots of plants have three leaves.
• You can only stack firewood so high before it falls over. It must be a physics thing.
• People will post the strangest photos online.
• Nothing stops the itching. 
• You can get scars from poison ivy.
• Home remedies only involve how to wash it off once you know you have been in it. Not how to stop it from spreading and itching. 
• I'm buying stock in Dawn dishwashing detergent 
• Showering in Dawn dishwashing detergent creates a LOT of bubbles.

And my favorite news release:

FORESTVILLE, Calif. — They're kicking off the Poison Oak Festival here along the Russian River this weekend, complete with an itchy queen and guideless tours of select patches of poison oak. “What we really want to do is pay tribute from a respectable distance," Forestville Chamber of Commerce spokeswoman Nancy Wallace said Friday.

Other rhymes about poison ivy that make me laugh:

1.  "Longer middle stem; stay away from them.
2.  "Hairy vine, no friend of mine."[5] Poison ivy vines are very poisonous.
3.  "Raggy rope, don't be a dope!"  
4.  "One, two, three? Don't touch me."
5.  "Berries white, run in fright"
6.  "Red leaflets in the spring, it's a dangerous thing."
7.  "Side leaflets like mittens, will itch like the dickens."
8.  "If butterflies land there, don't put your hand there."  
9.  "If it's got hair, it won't be fair."

Hey, Hey, Hay!

I have spent three delightful days being entertained by the neighbor farmer as he harvests hay on the acreage next to us. I sit with a beer in hand, and my trusty camera to record the progress as he works in the July heat and humidity. Harvesting hay seems to be a multi stage process that requires dusty work, patience and big boy toys. I am short on all three, so the best thing I can do is stay out of the way and document his progress.

Day 1: The farmer shows up with a new cutting tool attached to his big red tractor. I was fascinated to watch as this cutter could be swung out to the side, making it easy to get around obstacles. It was easy to track his progress because a big cloud of dust followed as he cut the hay – which looks like a big field of weeds if you ask me. Near the end of the day, the farmer left and I pondered how he was going to collect this mess into bales.

Day 2: I’m finishing my morning coffee when I see a tractor followed by a cloud of dust out in the field. Time to gear up and hit the lawn chair with my camera. It is too early for a beer, so I sit with my coffee and trust Dolly Dog at my side as we watch an odd machine gather the hay and flip it into rows that are called windrows (I know this because I looked it up on the internet!) It is a funny little machine, and I have no idea how it works, but having the hay in rows offers an excellent photo opportunity.

Day 3: As I drive up the driveway, I see a suspicious cloud of dust out in the field again. Sure enough, the farmer is collecting the hay into bales. Now we are talking! This is an amusing process of driving up and down the windrows in some pattern that only the farmer understands. At some point, the baler is full and the tractor pauses and gives birth to a round bale of hay. I kid you not, there is a pause, a grunt and then the back end opens up and spits out a bale of hay.

The bales are round and since we live on a hill I found myself wondering what prevents the bales from rolling downhill. I soon got my answer . . . absolutely nothing! No sooner had the thought crossed my mind when one of the bales started rolling downhill and out of sight. I had visions of a bale of hay going over the edge of the quarry and into the water. Does hay float?

My husband drove up a few minutes later and asked what I was doing. “Supervising,” I reply. “Grab a beer and come watch.”

Dolly supervises hay baling.

Singing While Mowing

Have you ever noticed that men and women approach chores differently? Take mowing for example. My husband gears up for mowing as if he is going into battle. He wears boots, pants and long sleeves along with goggles, a face mask and a big straw hat. He is so safety conscious that I suspect he would wear armor if he felt he needed it.

I, on the other hand, wear shorts, tennis shoes and a t-shirt. I dab a bit of eau de bug spray strategically behind my ears, knees, and on my neck, then I accessorize with a fine pair of sunglasses, MP3 player and headphones. I start the mower and then I start singing. I’m not talking about the polite hum along with a song type of singing. I’m singing in full performance mode. My arms are waving, I’m holding long, loud notes and bobbing my head in time with whatever is playing. And I’m having a great time.

Today, when I looked up, I saw my husband sitting in a lawn chair with his arms crossed and that quirked eyebrow that I love so much as he watched me mow. When I asked what his problem was, he said, “You are going to scare the new neighbors. They have small children you know.” Now let’s be real. You would need a pair of binoculars to correctly identify one of our neighbors from our yard, and I can’t possibly be singing that loud. I think he is jealous because I know the words (or at least some of the words, I’m happy to make up the ones I don’t know) to so many songs.

So I have decided to create a play list for my MP3 player of appropriate mowing songs. Here are some of the titles that I have come up with. Be sure to email me if you can think of any others.

Under My Wheels
Don’t Cross the River
Barren Ground
Spare Parts
Dirty Little Girl
All Shook Up
I got Stung
5th Gear
Jesus Take the Wheel
Go Your Own Way
Doctor My Eyes
Running On Empty
Slow Down Sister
Knee Deep in the Water Somewhere
Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?
One Way or Another
Against the Wind
Colder Weather
Whiskey’s Gone
No Hurry
Drive Like Lightning (Crash Like Thunder)
Slip Sliding Away

The Birds!

There is an odd phenomenon that occurs when I’m mowing. A large group of birds swoops just in front of my mower as I mow along. What is unusual, in my mind, is that these birds will buzz me continually the whole time I'm mowing. They swoop down at me from all sides and break away only a few feet from me or the mower; they come from all angles, high and low, front and back, left and right. It's a very entertaining display of bird acrobatics and I enjoy it immensely. I suspect they are catching the insects that fly out of the grass ahead of me. They may be swallows, though I really wouldn’t be able to pick a swallow out of a bird line up, but it sounds like the kind of bird that would eat insects. Lately, the insects seem to have caught onto their plight because they are hanging out closer and closer to me to the point I fear one of those birds may actually hit me.

I can see the headlines now . . . “Rural Iowa Woman Loses Eye in Bird Strike”. Now mind you, I’m more concerned about being referred to as a rural Iowa woman than losing an eye. I have made my husband promise that if I die by farm accident, he will drag my lifeless body to the nearest town and make up something interesting because I do not want those words included in my obituary!

(On another note, why is it when you Google “Rural Iowa Woman” you mostly get mug shots?)


 

Jurassic Park

There is a part of our yard where the grass meets the woods that I respectfully refer to as Jurassic Park. I say respectfully, because things cross into there and don’t come out again. We have lost bird feeders, shovels, potted plants and other items to the abyss. I have seen squirrels and chipmunks run into the woods and not be seen again. Even Dolly dog won’t venture past the grass line. So respect is in order.

In the winter, when all the leaves have fallen, it doesn’t appear that scary. But about this time of year, it becomes so dense that you can sense movement, but not identify the source. My neighbor once came barreling out of Jurassic Park riding a 4 wheeler, dressed in camo gear a hat and goggles, and carrying a chain saw. I had vision of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre before I recognized who he was. I’m still not sure why he was in there, but he came out fast. As for the chainsaw . . . I wouldn’t go in there unprotected either!

Sometimes I hear noises in the woods that I can’t identify. Crashing and rustling sounds, and I’m pretty sure an exotic monkey lives in there.  Maybe it is a bird, but it sure sound like a monkey.  It cries out to me and taunts me as I cautiously walk by. 

Hello Neighbor!

I was sitting in my office a few weeks ago when I turned around and noticed the back end of a large animal walking by my window. I jumped up and went to the front door to see what it was, only to discover a very large, curly haired dog in the front yard. When I opened the front door, the dog looked at me for a minute, then came right to me and leaned on my hip. he then pushed me aside to go see what Dolly was barking about. This was a big dog -- I’m thinking an Airedale mix that had to weigh close to 100 pounds. I admit that I was a bit hesitant to wrestle it and try to read its tags, but he seemed friendly enough, so I leaned in and grabbed the collar only to get dog slobber all over me. Was this thing rabid or did it always drool this much? The tag didn’t list an address, only a rabies vaccination record number, and I wasn’t brave enough to venture near the slobber zone twice.

I decided to come in and call some neighbors to see if anyone was missing a pet. Unfortunately, getting in the house without my new friend proved to be more difficult than one would think. He decided that if Dolly dog could be inside, he wanted to come in as well. I pushed, I shoved, but this dog held its ground at the front door having a stare off with Dolly. After a few minutes of wresting a very large, determined dog and using one leg to keep him out and one arm to keep Dolly in, I was able to get in and shut the door. I no sooner I closed the front door, when I heard a knock, knock, knock on the door. Wow, I thought, someone is already here to claim the dog.

I opened the front door to see the Airedale looking at me. No one else was in site. Are you kidding me? This dog knows how to knock on doors! Call the circus! I laughed and closed the door and took three steps when I heard knock, knock, knock again. The dog is still looking at me. Dolly is barking like crazy, and I’m wondering who is in charge.

This time, I open the door and say, “No, Dolly can’t come out and play,” and close the door. After three more tries, the dog gets tired of the game and wanders away. Now every now and then, I hear a knocking at the door and look out to see this persistent dog looking at me. My biggest concern is what I will do if the owners teach this dog how to punch in the code to the garage door opener!

This is War!!

We have moles in the yard. I’m not talking about a couple of moles that are a nuisance; I’m talking a band of brothers who are determined to mine for precious metals. The entire yard is a series of tunnels and mounds. When I’m out in our yard hunting these guys, I’m reminded of Bill Murray in CaddyShack. We have tried the usual remedies, but we have been invaded and this calls for war! I thought I would share some resources that I have found on the internet.


Poison:

Advantages:
1. They're pretty easy to use if you have an applicator. (We have dozens.)
2. If you can get the pellets into the pest's tunnels — they work.
3. If the poison does its job, the critter is already buried. You don't have to empty any traps.


Disadvantages of poisons:
1. Other than an absence of new mounds, you don't know if you are eliminating your pests or not.
2. You're working with poisons, so you have to be careful when you're applying them

Traps: Traps can be effective, but they are also a little difficult to use. I think we have been hit by the trap more often than we have hit a mole. And the instructions on all of these traps end with indicating how to tell if the trap has been sprung. No one gives you tips on disposal of the body. For my part, I think letting the sucker rot in the ground as a deterrent to others is the best method.

Exhaust fumes: I love this one. Simply stated: exhaust kills, especially in a small confined space such as a burrow. “This device that will help you move exhaust from your vehicle into the burrow of the critter that is causing you harm.” Check out the instructions:

Step 1: Measure the diameter of your exhaust pipe. (I love the caution to turn off your vehicle first!)

Step 2: Determine the required length of hose you will need by measuring the distance from your vehicle to the burrow opening or mound. Note: These people do realize that you can’t drive up to the mound because your car tires will sink 4 inches into the yard due to all the tunnels.

Step 3: Connect the hose to your exhaust pipe (again the warning about turning off your vehicle) and stuff the hose into the tunnel.

Step 4: Turn on your vehicle.

That’s it. No other instructions. So I have this vision of sitting in my car, listening to the radio, burning gas until . . . . when???


Sonic devices:  The theory behind these products is that you place a device in your yard that sends out a signal. Your gophers and moles find this sound or vibration to be so unpleasant that they will just decide to move away from your back yard and go live somewhere else . . . like the front yard!

But I’m leaning to the old fashioned way of dealing with moles:

A Country Girl Visits Maui

My husband and I recently traded the cold Iowa winter for a week in Maui. It was our first time to travel to this beautiful island and I fully intended to make the most of it. On our first full day there, Gene had to attend a conference. I waited a respectable 30 seconds after he left the room to grab my swim suit and head to the infinity pool. It was amazing. The pool appears to drop off into the ocean. I claimed my seat, ordered a drink, and started some serious daydreaming about moving to Maui and enjoying 80 degree weather every day. Around mid-January, I start thinking that four seasons in Iowa is highly over rated. Give me some sun!

About that time, I noticed a whales fin and tail slapping the water out in the bay. I held my breath and watched in awe. I had hoped to see a whale while I was there and could you believe it, one appears just outside our hotel pool! I looked around and wondered why others weren’t similarly awed. I started pointing and telling anyone who would listen, “Look, there is a whale!” A few people glanced up and smiled politely and I thought how sad it was that they weren’t taking in the beauty. I tromp down the pool steps and swim to the edge so I could watch to my heart’s content. It wasn’t until a few days later that I found out that February was the month that all the whales come to the bay and that there were literally thousands of them in the bay. You would have to be blind NOT to see one. It reminds me of how someone will say, “I saw a deer in your yard!” and I smile politely and think, “Quick, grab a gun and shoot it before it eats another $200 worth of landscaping!”


I don’t want you to think this country girl spent all of her time in Maui at the pool. I was determined to scout out the entire island and have some adventure while I was there. While reading the tour books, we found mention about the breathtaking views along the road to Hana that should not be missed. The road is described as follows:

“The world famous road to Hana is a gorgeous, winding costal drive through breathtaking valleys, beautiful beaches, lush rain forests, spectacular waterfalls, desert-like landscape, and remarkable cliffs. This will be one of the most unforgettable journeys of your life (They should underline that part!) with beautiful photo opportunities.” The brochure goes on and on to describe the 617 curves and 54 one-lane bridges.


What the brochure doesn’t tell you is that your vehicle will be hugging the edge of the road as you travel by the remarkable cliffs. Your teeth and kidneys will be jarred from all the bumps on the unpaved portion in the “untouched” southern side of the island where rental car contracts expressly state, “Travel at your own risk. We won’t come get you, and the tow truck will ask for the deed to your home to come get you.” At one point, a passenger in front of us turned to his wife and said, “Am I worried? Why should I be worried? Our driver is a kleptomaniac who makes up facts at every turn and then reassures us by saying, Don’t worry, I know this road like the back of my hand!” I’m not catholic, but when people started crossing themselves, I started thinking it was a good idea. We hit the bar when we got back to the hotel.

Snow

I'm trying to think of something funny to say about snow and winter weather . . . . nope, I've got nothing!

Thinking Outside of the Box . . . Literally!

We had a run of bad luck last week. The front burner on our cook top quit working and then the refrigerator started making an awful noise. To be honest, I have hearing loss, so I couldn’t hear the noise in the refrigerator but it seemed to annoy everyone else, including the dog. As the temperature in the fridge starting climbing, we decided to unload it so as not to lose all the food. Normally, this would cause quite a dilemma, but it is winter in Iowa and I have been known to think outside of the box. I created a freezer on the back deck and a refrigerator in the garage. Problem solved, or so I thought.


Four days later, I was still trying to find a repairman to come out. Two companies took the information and then I never heard from them again. While it has been entertaining to ask my husband to “go out to the freezer and get me blah, blah,” it has grown old stepping out onto the freezing deck to get ice for my drink. A repairman finally showed up and told me the refrigerator had a short and was a fire hazard and needed to be unplugged. He has ordered parts, and they should be in any day, but now we are under a blizzard warning with 1-2 feet of snow in the forecast. And now the temperatures are suppose to be in the negative numbers for several days. My freezer has become a “sub-zero” freezer.

So I have a plan. When the power goes out, I move the frozen food to the garage, which will now be below freezing, and the refrigerator items to the house, which will be cold, and we roast weenies in the fireplace. We are going to die!

Monday's Snow

I was recently visiting family in Texas for a weekend and enjoyed the 50 degree temperatures as I peeled layers of clothing off while waiting for my luggage to arrive.  Generally, January is a great time to travel to Texas and enjoy a break from the single digit temperatures.  Unfortunately, the snow followed me and they received 4 inches of snow the next day.  As I sat in front of the "first fire of the season", I snickered as the weathermen broke into the football game with updates on the snow accumulation.  The DFW airport cancelled hundreds of flights, schools closed, and everything came to a standstill.  To be fair, they don't have snow often and don't have the equipment to handle this much snow.  But on the flip side, the streets were warm enough that within a day, most of the snow would melt.  I did laugh when the weather men named the storm "Operation Ice Blast 1".  When I came home and told some friends about it, they said, "We name our storms too.  We call them Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday . . ."

So here is a photo of Monday.