October, 1965 Cold Wave Got Me Started With Weather. But Man, Have Times Changed!

The autumn, 1965 cover of Vermont Life
magazine. A weird October cold wave
that year helped start a lifetime of 
weather geekdom, which has morphed
into a horrified fascination 
with climate change. 

When weather geeks like me are asked what got them into keeping their heads in the clouds, so to speak, they'll often mention childhood memories of dramatic storms like hurricanes, tornadoes or blizzards.   

My experience is more odd and convoluted.  I don't think what got me into weather and climate geekdom was one particular thing. But a long-forgotten early October cold wave piqued my interest. At a very, very early age.

I seemingly was born with the desire to understand nature, and wind and clouds and the sky. How it works, and why it's all as cool as it is.  

For some reason my memories of early October, 1965 are vivid, even though nothing particularly exciting happened, and I was only three years old.  

It was Sunday, October 3. West Rutland, Vermont. When I got up that morning, my parents were in the kitchen, talking about an expected cold wave and even the chance of snow. 

Outside, a stiff north wind had just started, peeling colorful leaves off of sugar maples with gleeful abandon.

The temperature fell all day. I stood by the windows watching my dad doing stuff outside. These were big windows, with three panes stacked atop each other. As an adult, standing in the living room, I would look out the top window. At age three, I was so short I could just barely peek out the lower pane. 

From the base of the window, my breath steaming the glass, and my mother warned me about getting fingerprints on the spot she just cleaned. 

I watched my dad, looking rather bundled up, working one of the outdoor projects he was always doing. I think he was building a stone wall. He repeatedly pushed a  steel wheelbarrow loaded with rocks and dirt up a hill like he was out for a stroll. He was 45 years old at the time and had the strength and stamina of a bull. 

I wanted to go outside to "help" dad, but my mother said no. It was too cold. I was a smart ass, and frankly, sometimes actually smart even at that age. I pointed out that dad was outside, and that was OK. And I told mom she let me play outside in the middle of winter when it was even colder. 

But I lost the argument. My mother must have not felt like digging all the winter clothes out. It was too early in the season to deal with it.   

That evening, though, my mother turned on the outdoor lights in the backyard. It was snowing, only a little, and it wasn't sticking. But it was snowing. Both of us were excited. The first snow of the season. 

It flurried for each of the next two days, in one of the earliest bouts of winter on record. I looked it up recently and learned the temperature in Burlington fell into the 30s during the day on October 3, 1965 and did not get above 40 again until the afternoon of October 6.  

The high temperatures on October 4 and 5, 1965  in Burlington were 39 and 37 degrees, all record low high temperatures. 

A WEATHER JOURNEY, CLIMATE UNEASE

Anyway, from then on, for the next six decades I bored people to death with my weather obsession, but I just couldn't help myself.  I overcame a childhood fear of thunderstorms so that they're now my favorite weather. The louder, the better.

I get a stir of excitement with every storm. Except the dangerous ones that have been hitting with greater frequency with climate change.  I actually cried a bit when I woke up on the morning of July 11, 2023 to see Montpelier under water. 

Then the floods kept hitting. Until the worst drought I can remember hit this summer and fall. 

The ever-changing Vermont weather I grew up with has started to change too much. It's gotten scary. And sad. This isn't the Vermont climate I grew up with. Epic floods. Epic droughts. Epic heat waves. It's so much weirder nowadays than a snow flurry in early October could ever be.

I don't think we'll ever get another October, 1965 in Vermont because the climate is so much different now.   

Just two years ago, it was 86 degrees in Burlington on October 4, an all time record high for the month.  That's as big a contrast to October 4, 1965 as you can possibly get. We're expecting potential record highs in the low 80s this Sunday and Monday.

When I was young, I LOVED snow, and 1965-66 turned out to be the start of a series of snowy winters that lasted well into the 1970s. That era was a great time to be both a kid who simultaneously loved snow and was an incorrigible weather geek. 

The stats back me up. Burlington's average annual snowfall is 72.6 inches. Every winter from 1965-66 through 1975-76 had at least 85 inches of snow. Yeah, my ADHD always leads me to the stats for some reason. 

Nowadays, I'm not nearly as big a fan of snow.  A changed climate has minimized the amount of snow we get. Fortunately for me, but not for a lot of other Vermonters.

Snow in the winter has become uneven. Some winters don't get much snow at all. Other winters recently have had tons of snow. At least on paper. But it seems every snowfall is followed by a thaw. The snow cover never really gets deep like it used to half a century ago.

I'm still a geek who - unlike 99 percent of the rest of the world - can still get breathless over a mesoscale  convective complex. (Don't ask).

I'm still as fascinated with the weather as I was as that three year old, who just wanted to join his dad outside on a wintry day during what should have been foliage season. 

That joy I find in the sky and clouds and air is now tinged with a bit of sadness and fear. What will climate change bring next?  I've always gotten excited when the weather got a little extreme.

But now, it's a little too extreme for my tastes. I imagine a lot of other people feel the same. Even if they aren't weather geeks.  

One Year Anniversary Of Great Vermont Eclipse Of 2024: Still Basking In The Afterglow

The view from my St. Albans, Vermont house during
the total eclipse of the sun, April 8, 2024,

 Today is the first anniversary of the Great American Eclipse of 2024.

I'm still in awe of what I saw, as lucky for me, the center of totality passed right over my St. Albans, Vermont home.

 My husband Jeff and I parked ourselves in chairs on our back deck, with a perfect view to the southwest, where the sun was that day. 

Vermont got really lucky on April 8, 2024.   The weather is seldom nice in the Green Mountain State this time of year.  

I mean, look at today. There's lots of clouds, it's colder than hell, and snow showers keep dusting the early spring landscape. 

There had been an 80 percent chance that that eclipse day would be overcast, based on past weather records. 

Instead, the weather was absolutely, improbably perfect on April 8, 2024. The day featured mild weather as temperatures reached the upper 50s to mid 60s. There were quite a few high, thin clouds in the sky, but that actually enhanced the experience. You could still clearly see the actual eclipse, as the moon blocked the sun and you could just see the outer edges of the sun during totality. 

Those high clouds created a beautiful sunset effect during the eclipse, with the horizon lighting up in beautiful yellow, orange and blue tones. 

The whole thing was thrilling. I laughed out loud with joy as I heard a crowd in downtown St. Albans, a mile away, let out a loud cheer when totality hit. Then I sat and watched the sky, slack-jawed, during totality. I didn't want it to end. 

And as if to end the day with a flourish, hours later, we were treated to a spectacular, post-eclipse sunset. 

Barely a month later, Vermont and much of the rest of the nation experienced one of the most spectacular northern lights displays in memory. Once again, Vermont skies were mostly clear, and we got to enjoy it.

It's been back to reality with more recent celestial events. There was a total lunar eclipse early in the morning of March 14. Skies were clear for that, but it peaked at like 2 a.m. I admire anyone who stayed up for that, but I was unfortunately too lazy. I slept through it. A bad hour for this decrepit old man. 

There was a partial eclipse of the sun on the morning of March 29.  Not nearly as wild as last year's total eclipse. But it would have been fun to dig out the solar glasses from last year and take a peek as the moon took a bite out of the early morning sun.

But alas, northern Vermont was experiencing a snowstorm that morning. So much for that. 

Other than that, we have our usual meteor shower and super moons to look forward to in the rest of 2025, but not much else.

But that's OK. The sky is always interesting, even when supposedly nothing special is going on. 

Sometimes, on a clear night, it's fun to just go outside after dark on, day a mild June night. The fireflies at the edge of the woods will compete with the tapestry of twinkling stars in the sky. 

Or there's meteorological displays.  On a muggy night in July, I might sit in our outdoor tub on the deck, glass of wine in hand, Patsy Cline singing in the background as heat lightning lazily flashes in the sky from thunderstorms somewhere over Quebec. 

The year 2025 will end with three "super moons" starting in October. That's when the moon is closer to Earth than it usually is, so the full moon looks even bigger and brighter than usual. It'll be worth grabbing a jacket or coat on those nights if it's clear to enjoy the moon glow, maybe do a little moon dance, I don't know. 

 Maybe the December 4 super moon rise over a snow covered landscape, turning night into day as the moon glow reflects off the snow. 

I'll probably never see another total eclipse of the sun, but I've got the memory. I can look forward to our always fascinating sky and weather to keep me looking up to the heavens in search of both peace and joy.