Alright, so folks have been asking how I go about keeping track of the snowfall here in Boston. It’s not like I’m some kinda meteorologist, far from it. But after a few winters of hearing wildly different numbers thrown around, I figured, why not try to get my own handle on things? It started pretty casually, honestly.
My Early, Shaky Attempts
First off, I tried what everyone else does. You know, peek out the window, maybe check one of those weather apps. But those apps? Half the time they’re guessing, or they’re measuring way out at Logan Airport, which can be a whole different world from my neighborhood in JP. So that wasn’t cutting it. I needed something a bit more… personal, I guess you could say.
Then I thought, okay, I’ll just stick a ruler in the snow. Sounds simple, right? Wrong. First storm, I just jammed it in a random spot. Next day, different spot. The numbers were all over the place. One part of my tiny yard would say 6 inches, another would say 10 because of a drift. It was a mess, totally unreliable.
Getting My System Down
So, I realized I needed a system. Nothing fancy, mind you. I’m not building a weather station here.
First thing was finding a consistent spot. I picked a flat, open area in my backyard, away from the house overhang, away from where the snowblower usually throws stuff, and definitely away from where the dog does his business. I even put a little garden gnome there as a marker, bless his cotton socks. He gets buried a lot.
Then, the tools. Again, super basic:
- An old wooden yardstick. The kind your grandpa had.
- A small, cheap notebook and a pencil that works even when it’s freezing.
- My phone, just to note the time and maybe snap a quick picture if it was looking particularly wild.
My actual process went something like this: When a storm was predicted, I’d clear my little gnome spot down to the grass, or whatever the base was at the time. Then, as the snow started falling, I’d try to go out every few hours, especially if it was coming down hard. I’d gently stick the yardstick straight down until it hit the ground. No packing, no wiggling. Just a straight measurement. I’d write down the date, time, and the depth. If it was a multi-day event, I’d record the new accumulation since the last check, and also the total depth.
Why I Got So Into It (The Real Story)
Now, you might think this is a bit much for just some snow. And yeah, maybe it is. But a few years back, my kid was doing a school project on local weather. They needed data. And everything we found online was so generic. They got really frustrated. I saw that and thought, “Heck, I can do better than some website guessing about our street.” It became a bit of a father-kid thing. We’d go out together, take the measurements. He’d write them down. Suddenly, it wasn’t just about the numbers, it was about, well, doing something together, and teaching him to observe things for himself. He’s older now, not as interested, but I just kept the habit up. It feels wrong to stop now, you know? That gnome expects me.
What I’ve Learned and The “Official” Record
Doing this, I’ve learned a lot. Like how wind is the absolute enemy of accurate snow measurement. One day my gnome is nearly clear, the next he’s in a Narnia-level drift. I also learned that “fluffy” snow can pile up super high but compress to almost nothing in a day. Wet, heavy snow? That stuff is honest. It sits there and dares you to move it.
My “record” is just that notebook. It’s got smudges, water stains, and my terrible handwriting. But it’s my record. I can look back and say, “Yep, remember that blizzard in ’22? We got 23.5 inches right here by this gnome.” Is it perfect? Nah. Is it better than just shrugging when someone asks how much snow we got? Absolutely.
So, that’s my grand system. Not very scientific, but it’s a real, boots-on-the-ground (or in-the-snow) account of what winter throws at us here in Boston. And sometimes, when the official report says one thing, and my little notebook says another, I tend to trust the notebook. And the gnome, of course.
