I have tried to count the number of times I have seen snow in my 62 3/4 years. I think it has been a half a dozen -- maybe more (the trip to Chicago doesn't count).
But never in my life have I seen snow like what we got last week all the way down here in south Louisiana. This was movie snow. Hallmark Channel snow. We actually were under a blizzard warning.
Like, for real.
On Tuesday, January 21, 2025, shortly after I gave up and went to bed at 4 a.m. after trying in vain to wait up for it, it began to snow. Only two hours later, my husband woke me up to "come see." Yep. There were flakes in the air and a light dusting on the ground! I was so excited. I got to see snow!
Oh, I would see snow, all right. Lots of it. Because this little snow pressure system, combined with an artic cold front, would send a record-breaking snowfall to our little sub-tropic paradise. It snowed ALL DAY, not letting up until just about sunset when everything started to freeze over. By the time we were done, we guesstimated we had about 6-8 inches of the white fluffy stuff in our yard, on our cars, all over the patio furniture and covering Apple Street. That did not stop the couyons from driving up and down Apple Street, however.
The kept telling us it was coming, but even I had a hard time coming to grips with the forecast that predicted up to a foot of snow in some places. Here? Snowmageddon, they called it. It became the Bayou Blizzard.
The Coach,, who spent several years shovelling snow in Chicago, didn't believe it either. He thought they -- or I -- were exaggerating. Ha! Showed you!
While he was used to this kind of weather and moved to New Orleans to escape it, it was truly a once-in-a-lifetime kind of snow for me and many others. According to the record books and those who read them, it was the most snow since 1895 when Baton Rouge added up about 22 inches over two days. I am well aware of this story because of my grandmother, Evelyn Himel Cross French. Her grandfather was Oscar Himel, the owner of Himelaya Plantation in Labadieville. He and his wife Dorothee Bernard Himel were to celebrate their 25th wedding anniversary on Feb. 15, 1895 -- the second day of the historic blizzard. The party had to be canceled. But the Himels were gifted a lovely silver tray engraved with the date, which I have in my possession.
You see, people down here don't quite know how to do snow. Folks up north made fun of us on social media because we canceled school, shut down businesses and the airport and told people to stay home. Tourists who had come down for a few fun days in the French Quarter were stuck for days. People trying to get here were stuck out of luck. We quite literally closed the state and said, "Ccme back later."
And forget driving. Every major road was closed, iced over and bridges were turned into a nice ski ramp.
But then, just a few days later, some of those same folks were finding our photos, videos, and TikToks showing little babies and elderly grandparents playing and marveling in the wonder before us. Some had never seen snow before. Most had never seen snow like this before.
We made sleds out of cardboard and seafood trays to slide down the levees, which are the only "hills" we've got. Some pulled out their pool toys. Some got in their pools with them. We made snow angels and snowmen, women and others and decorated them with Mardi Gras beads and feather boas. There were giant snowball fights. Ladies I know made snow faces in the soft powder.
I did not do any of those things. I watched from my living room window and through my back door as my summer paradise turned into a scene from Frozen. I did take a bite or two and I threw one snowball at my husband. My poor little poodle was very confused. I ate bowls of homemade vegetable soup, chili and lots of Little Debbie snacks.
And it stayed this way for several days. Wednesday dawned bright and beautiful with clear skies and warmer temperatures, but the snow barely moved. Some of the roads began to thaw, but the bridges were still closed. This was the day lots of people made their snowmen out on the lawns -- or snowgators in some cases.
Thursday there was still a lot of snow around as Marty and I (and Lola) shook off our cabin fever to drive around the neighborhood. The levees were still iced but with deep ruts in them from the sledders. The snowmen and women were hanging in there. And we marveled at the science of snow and how one lawn would be completely thawed while the neighbor's was still a sheet of ice.
It was an experience we all reveled in and will all remember because of the millions of photos posted on the Internet.
I have only about three photos from the first time I saw snow in 1973 in Houma. I have one black and white photo of my brother holding a snowball and one of my grandpa and me throwing snowballs. That's it. But I still remember that day clearly. School was canceled or let out early so we could be home. We scraped it off of cars and the trampoline and threw snowballs at each other. My brother got me good when he went inside for a bit and I, wondering what took him so long, went to look for him. As soon as I opened the door he nailed me with a snowball to the face.
I remember thinking -- snow! Snow is wet!
I wouldn't see any considerable snow again until 1989. It was Christmas Eve and I was working at The Times-Picayune in downtown New Orleans at the time. The snow started in late morning -- after I got to work -- and continued for several hours. It was big news!
We spent most of the day watching through the giant windows as policemen directed traffic and tried to push people over the Broad Street overpass. The sports staff was, for the most part, the night shift. By early afternoon they were beginning to call in to say they would not be able to get to work because all the roads were closed. My boss was asking me how much agate and pasting did I remember. Finally, in frustration, he had me tell the guys that if they couldn't drive, they should give me their address because they were going to send the big orange delivery trucks to get them.
A few trickled in on their own after that. But oldtimer Waddell Summers, who used to be one of New Orleans' best boxing writers until he was "desked" as an editor, just walked right in, right on time as if nothing was going on.
I finally started to drive myself home after dark, which normally took 10 to 15 minutes. It took me an hour. I hit the first patch of black ice on a quiet, frozen residential street. My little Nissan 200 did a complete spin to the other direction. So, I drove to the corner, turned left, made another left and hit another patch of ice, which turned me back in my original direction. I repeated the maneuver until I got to the next street.
When I finally arrived at my little apartment on Willow Street, I let my standard poodle Laycee out. She was very happy but wiped out on the ice and snow.
After I moved to LaPlace in 1991, there was a snowfall in March of 1992 or 93. I remember because it was on my birthday. But there wasn't enough to stick.
There were a few snowflakes visible in the streetlights that one year we took Marty's parents and a couple of their friends to see the bonfires in Lutcher. But they, having lived in Chicago for many years, assured me that it wasn't "real" snow.
In 2004 we got a real White Christmas. Lora was almost four and cute as can be. Daniel and Courtney came over and we all watched it snow and tried to scoop some up.
We got another snow dusting in 2008. They didn't even cancel school for that one! But it made for a nice Christmas card!
Then, in 2017, the day my mama was cremated, it snowed once more.
So that adds up to about seven. Seven snows in 62 3/4 years. And I remember each magical one.
This is my favorite clip of the day... Best Day
