The great snow blizzard of January 18, 2026 was a bust.
We didn’t get so much as a flurry at my place.
I still get excited about the prospect of snow—my child heart wants to see the snow come every year, provided I don’t have to do adult things, like get out and drive in it, work in it or shovel it.
We don’t get snow often. In fact, while I was growing up, I only remember a couple of snow days— Christmas of 1989 being the most significant. In recent years, we have had big snows in 2018 and last year in 2025 was probably the record for snowfall in our area with four inches.
I like the sound of a snowfall. It’s like a shimmer, like a whisper and in my mind it is what the brush of angels wings must sound like.
The National Weather Service first mentioned the possibility of the “S” word last week. I allowed myself to get excited, even though time after time and model after model, the forecasters kept saying it was a very iffy prospect and lots of unusual ingredients had to come together for a snow to actually happen. They told us what to expect. They told us it may or may not happen.
It didn’t, so there wasn’t any snow. What we got was a very cold rain and over this past week we had several days of biting, sharp arctic cold.
If it’s going to be cold like this, at least it could snow.
I put on every layer of clothing I had to brave the biting South Georgia cold. Did I look like the Michelin man? Yes. Was I warm? No.
With the below normal temperatures came the duties of winterizing out at the farm. The pipes and plants had to be seen about. One is a rubber plant and the other is a ficus. I have two others I can’t even remember the names of. I lugged them all in to a warm room of the house. We had to cut the remaining lemons. Lemon trees have long, sharp thorns. It fought with me as I cut the fruit.
We had to run heat lamps to our pump houses.
My brother, Kennon, was away, so I was pressed in to duty. I am not good at these things. I am out of my element. Daddy told me not long before he died to try and learn new things and help my brother out on the farm. I’m trying, but I am functionally illiterate about such things. I measured and figured and strung and strowed extension cords hither and yon to run the heat lamps on the pumps. I had it all figured out. Only, by the time I went to plug in the cords to the outlets, I was about four feet short and had to conjure that up in my mind. I managed to get the lights on and the pumps heated. Have I ever mentioned how much I hate math?
My reward was to savor a cup of coffee and bowls of two homemade soups Mama made, chili and potato.
Still, I had to brace myself against the cutting, sharp, cold when heading back outside to home and work.
I’ll say it again: if it’s going to be this cold, why can’t it snow?
It almost did. But, it didn’t.
• Jason Deal is News Editor for The Blackshear Times. Reach him at [email protected].
