Ice Storm 2025
There is always a bit of heaven in a disaster zone
This is what my road front looked like on the morning of Sunday, March 30th as I left the relative comfort of my house to survey the damage. I found out later, my neighbour Bill had already been out chainsawing and clearing fallen trees and debris from the road. He said he looked at that tree hanging on the line, but decided to leave it for the professionals. A good decision I agreed, when we got to talking later in the day.
I relied on Bill and Mackie throughout the early days of the storm and its aftermath. Although I had a woodstove to keep myself and the cats warm, I had no electricity nor running water for drinking. Filling in the pond last summer started to feel like a mistake now, as I had no place to fill up buckets for flushing my toilet. In all, I would be without electricity for 68 hours beginning on Saturday evening just after darkness fell.
Fortunately, I had continuous cell service with Rogers, a lucky break, as anyone on Bell or using Bell infrastructure seemed to have none. This allowed me to keep in touch with relatives and friends throughout the mini-crisis. Bill and Mackie provided me with power from their generator to change my phone and camera batteries and even provided a hot shower. Too bad I had to turn down their offer of a hot meal as I had already stuffed myself with barbecued meat after making the most of my fast thawing freezer. They also provided me with a bit of companionship, a premium benefit when facing a period of stress such as this alone. I had always had Ruth to help me ride out these storms, but now it was quiet in the house, and again I found myself missing her greatly.
A walk down the driveway to the road
Curious to see what was happening out on the road, I took a walk down the driveway the morning after the power went out, turning often to take in fresh views of my fast changing landscape. The freezing rain was still falling, still building on the trees.
The scene was quiet, save for the crunch of footsteps beneath my feet, as I walked my 300 foot driveway down to the road.
Everywhere branches hung down close to the ground with debris blocking my way in places. In the forest, large trees were either broken or had fallen against each other like dominoes.
As with the branches, the ground too was covered in 1/2 to 3/4 inch of ice. Every blade of grass, every fallen leaf, every twig or broken branch was coated, the heavy load of ice still building. On the ground, ice collected as if someone had opened thousands of bags of packing peanuts. Crunch, crunch, crunch went my footsteps.
But when I stopped, I became aware of the absence of birds and traffic noise. The rain was steady, but made little to no sound as it beat against the hood of my winter jacket. It was relatively warm, hovering around zero, leading me to leave the jacket partially unzipped, my camera nestled against my body, safe from the rain and ready to be pulled out to capture the next scene in front of me.
Standing still, I listened carefully. Somewhere in the distance, I could hear the gentle hum of generators. Punctuating this relative silence was the sound of breaking branches, ringing out unexpectedly like rifle fire, BANG! — then the sound of branches coated in ice falling through the canopy, tripping other branches in its flight to the ground.
Over and over again the silence was broken. A sharp short blast followed by the sound of breaking glass, again followed by silence. Inconsistent in its timing. 10 seconds here, 23 seconds there. Interspersed with nothing. Then BANG! — another branch succumbs to gravity as I spin towards the racket, trying to catch sight of it as it falls.
The lower part of the driveway seemed relatively unscathed, but everywhere I looked I saw trees toppled, branches down or widow makers hanging precariously from above. When I reached the bottom of the driveway I found another problem. A poplar tree had snapped in half, the top part resting against the lower of the two hydro lines, leaning the bulk of its weight there and pulling the line down several feet.
I decide to continue along the road in front of my property. The road was slick with ice and I walked carefully along in my insulated wellies. My socks had become balled up under my feet and I stopped to take them off and stuff them into my pockets. Ah, that’s better.
No traffic went by for a long while. I wondered if the road was clear further along, but eventually a pickup drove slowly through the obstacle course. We waved to each other in recognition. You can see the tracks left by Bill’s tractor in the picture above as he worked to push fallen trees and branches off the road.
The roadway was mostly cleared but littered with ice pellets, sawdust and small twigs. Bill had cut some larger branches and pushed them off to the sides of the road.
A few more vehicles crawled past. Everyone was out doing the same thing. Checking out the damage, seeing if they could get through. Helping as they could to make the roads more accessible again. As I was standing by my neighbours large pines a branch broke off high above and bounced just off the edge of road near where I was standing. They fall so fast, it leaves no time to react. I wondered if I should be wearing a helmet, or even how wise it was to be wandering about as the branches were still falling. Perhaps it was time for me to head back to the house. And that’s what I did.
The day before had been all about taking pictures
The day before, when the power was still on, I had no thoughts of filling the bathtub, or assessing what was in the freezer. We take electricity and telecommunications for granted, until of course, they’re not there. So when I ventured out the afternoon before, it was in hopes of getting some cool looking pictures. I never once thought I might be better off using the time to prepare for the next few days. Ignorance is bliss they say. And here is what I saw the day before.
At this point on Saturday afternoon, the rain was coming down hard, but the buildup of ice was slow and had not been so great. It seemed to be a mixture of rain and freezing rain, and I was still hoping we would be spared anything catastrophic. No branches were broken. No trees were down. The power hadn’t so much as flickered. Mostly it was just a very wet day, but that has never been enough to stop me and my camera. It was time to be outside and play in the rain.
The freezing rain provided a number of photographic opportunities. The cats even came out with me for a short while, excited by what I was doing, that is until they had had enough. Katie began to think there was something decidedly uncat like about the weather, and for once chose to watch from the indoors.
That’s okay guys. I think I’m going to take a little walk further afield. I’ll be back in a while. You can hang out by the woodstove, which I had already got going to counteract the cool east wind that had arisen with the rain. Might as well get the house nice and warm for when I returned.
I walked to the edge of the property and headed down the right of way that allows the Glovers to reach their fields behind my property. The ice had turned everything white, but not like snow. This was a different sort of coating. More thorough for one thing. More like a second skin than a sprinkling of parmesan on pasta. Hmm, I was starting to get hungry.
It wasn’t until I got further down this farmer’s lane that I noticed just how hard it had started to rain and noticing the pools of standing water that were building along the path through the woods.
As I came to the top of the hill and looked down at the field south of us, I started to get a sense of the severity of what was happening. How long was this going to last I wondered? Oh well, time to head home.
That evening, I had just finished cooking myself a nice steak. It was already dark outside being about 8 PM. A pan of onions, garlic, and a few peppers were sautéing on the stove, some broccoli steaming in a basket. A few wedge fries finishing up with the steak in the little toaster oven. Supper was ready, a Night Owl brew from Focal Brewing Company already in hand. I was quite happy with the meal I had made myself and was about to sit down to my favourite Saturday night radio program and connect with some friends in the accompanying chatroom.
And just then, the power went off and I was plunged into darkness. I stumbled to find a flashlight and located the tail end of the last candle I had in the house. I fed the cats and managed to serve up my meal without throwing too much on the floor. And that basically was the end of my plans for Saturday night. I listened to podcasts on my phone until I fell asleep.
The morning after the night before
I’ve already told you about my trip down the driveway assessing the overnight damage so I’ll skip to part where I returned to the house to have a look around closer to home. I stepped out into the fenced cat enclosure. Tiki looked unimpressed.
The water I had added to the bird bath a few days ago for the birds was still there but deeper than it was before. Ice had built up on the edges of Tiki’s water bowl hat raising the level considerably and now spilling over in cascades of icicles giving him bangs, his body encased in ice. Behind him the outer 10 feet of the largest remaining branch of our poor old red maple lay on the ground. The ice had increased substantially from the day before and gave the lawn an odd appearance I had never quite witnessed before.
The honeysuckle bush was bent right over losing almost half its height but so far remaining intact. Nothing was broken and it has a lot of bend to it. Still, it was almost as short as the 6 foot fence behind it. Perhaps it would be okay.
Icicles hanging from the side porch had grown overnight but nothing like the ones that appear through the winter season. They seem to glow with clarity and were covered in wet. Everything was wet. Wet and icy.
The sumac covered pathway behind the house looked like it had finally met its match. I am put in mind of the day Ruth walked ahead of me as I followed her in our old Nissan Pickup. She walked slowly through the long grass, picking a suitably winding trail free of rocks or holes that we hoped to mow through the meadow thereby creating an interesting pathway across the back field. The plan was largely successful and had become something of a feature of our back yard. However, in recent years the sumac that sprang up either side of that long ago moment had reached the end of their lives. I had thought of cutting them down completely last year, we even talked about it, but other things got in the way. Now it seems Mother Nature was having the final say. To the right of the sumac, a birch that had been cut in half by a previous ice storm looked like it had also succumbed to the latest natural modifications. I use to get very upset when the birchs were damaged this way, but I have learned this is just the way of it. We all have our due dates, and this birch seems to have arrived at its.
Looking south I spotted the crazy birch, as we always called it, that was going through a similar crisis. We often remarked about this tree how Cougar and Jenny, now long gone, used to frolic there in our walks with the cats around the field. It was one tree that was easy for them to climb even as kittens and they loved it dearly. In the past year, I had trimmed it back from a broken W shape to something resembling a birch tree again. But it seems birches are just plain allergic to ice storms.
A Little Bit of Heaven
I’ll always remember that moment in the Woodstock film when "Wavy Gravy" announced to the crowd. “We must be in heaven, man! There's always a little bit of heaven in a disaster area.” I mean, that’s kind of true, isn’t it?
There’s something very human about finding a bright spot in any darkness we encounter. In addition to all the destruction an ice storm brings, it can also bring people together and there is always quite a bit of beauty surrounding an ice storm.
And so I went looking for beauty amongst the fallen branches and found these red maple buds encased in ice looking somewhat like the glass marbles I used to play with as a kid, but less round and more organic looking.
As far as I can tell, most of these buds will remain viable. I shot them from living branches as they were the easiest to photograph. Of course there were many more on the ground, but these ones should become flowers and then leaves in the very near future. They’re like natural jewells, waiting like ocean pearls to be released.
I find it interesting how the ice builds up around them. The forms that are created.
Electricity - A modern lifeline
So just shy of 4 full days, my power came back on. Ontario Hydro claimed it was the worst ice storm since the big one in 1998. Our premier said it was even bigger than that, but he tends toward the dramatic. Let’s just say it was bad. It affected about a milion homes mostly north and east of Toronto with 250,000 homes waiting to be restored after my own lights came back on. There are still pockets over a week later that remain in the dark.
The power to the house follows a separate track from the driveway, cutting in from the corner of the property and passing through some woods on its way. The picture above shows the end of the line where a single line leads from a transformer to the house.
Power restoration may have coincided with the tree being pulled off the line down at the end of my driveway, I’m not sure. I didn’t hear the crews working down there, but I cheered and let out a whoop when the power came back on. Crews have been working tirelessly since the storm began to restore power across the province. I am grateful to them for their hard work. It would be difficult to live out here without them.
Freezing rain takes a myriad of pathways as water flows down from the gutter placed over the entranceway of our front porch.
Believe it or not, there is a walking trail in the middle of this picture big enough to drive an ATV through. It will take a while to clean up this mess and I’m in no rush.
The old oaks took another hit with this storm, but the apple tree beyond sustained no damage. The tree on the right is all but dead now. I’m letting it fall apart over time as decaying trees provide important habitat for a myriad of wildlife. It does no harm to let its branches fall off when they are ready.
Just outside the living room window, this sumac has been handy as a stage for many of my bird photographs. Three large branches came down off of it during the storm. I’m not sure what its fate will be now. Will there still be enough there to attract birds?
During the storm, scores of robins gathered at the sumac trying to get at the fruit but finding it a hard nut to crack. Their best access to this favourite resource came at ground level where some of the fruit was exposed when the branches hit the ground. Below you can see how the ground too was inaccessible to them.
And finally, March came to an end, “Out like a Lion” proving the old adage discussed in my first post of the month. Maybe I should have kept my mouth shut.
The dawn of April Fools day was quite pleasant, much of the ice now melted, but with the power still off and one more day to go before my power would be restored. Power failures like this are like hitting a reset switch. They remind us not to take things for granted. You never know when it may all be taken away.
A few more shots from the month of March
While this post is mostly about the Ice Storm, there are a couple of other images I wanted to share. This shot of the moon in the morning light has a softness to it which exemplifies my gratitude for another day of living. Another day of life.
And then there was the day this past month I had a wonderful meal at Trattoria Gusto in Port Hope with this lovely lady. She’s been a good friend to me these last few months, lending her ear when I needed it most. She tells me she doesn’t like having her picture taken, but c’mon, what’s not to like? Definitely a good day. Thank You Lana.
And that concludes another edition of My Photo Journal. Thank you for taking the time to follow my ramblings. I am grateful for your presence. Please feel free to leave a comment if you wish. I love to hear from you. Did you lose power? Do you have any stories to tell?
As I do, I’ll leave you with a tune, this one a reflection on the lessons learned amongst the ice and darkness. Of being grateful for the day, no matter what it brings and the friends who help you through, especially when the going gets tough. Gratitude has become a core value in my life especially since losing my partner. We should take nothing for granted and cherish each day for the opportunities and blessings it brings. In fact I don’t think it is hyperbole to say that gratitude may be the elixir of life.
Wow, John, these photos are all so stunning and powerful and wonderous. Thank you so much for sharing them and your ice storm experience. I remember having one here the 2nd winter I was back in Massachusetts from Los Angeles. We went about 4 - 5 days without power. Beautiful photos. I love your work!
What a storm and in spite of the challenges of being without power you have captured some truly amazing pictures! Thanks for sharing and glad you have your power back!