Braking For Snowbama

Even before its completion, ​“Snowbama,” my latest snow-day creation, began to stop traffic. Motorists exited their vehicles to snap pictures, fodder for their Facebook and Twitter feeds.

“Is that Obama?” one driver asked as the work began to take form..

“No, it’s Snowbama!” I yelled back, wondering if my caricature of the president, whom I’ve always supported as a voter, would ever achieve a respectable artistic likeness.

Public pressure from friends on social media for me to ​“do it again” was growing. Neighbors had recalled the ​“Snow-asaurus” (pictured) snow sculpture I created three years earlier after a storm dumped nearly two feet of snow on the area.

That polychrome creature, a hybridized concoction of dinosaur and dragon, was soon followed by an offer to create a giant Blue Whale, mascot for the Hartford Whalers. Though enormous by snow sculpture standards, the hockey-stick-wielding creature was dwarfed against the rising wall of Hartford’s Rentschler Field Stadium, where a special ​“Whale Bowl” hockey festival was underway.

An entrenched cycle of snowstorms this winter brought with it dreams of more snow days and painted snow sculptures. It had been several years since the Snow-asaurus had enjoyed its 15 minutes of fame; the monumental whale sculpture had provided physical challenges that even included a little frost nip about the toes.

Recent storms had produced modest amounts of dry, powdery snow of poor sculpting consistency. Then back-to-back storms this week deposited the good stuff — the heavy, wet snow that doctors warn us about, but is perfect for snowballs, snow forts, snow sculptures and snow hearts.

Legends, even those local, modest ones like ​“Snow-asaurus,” are hard to live up to. It wasn’t until I actually started to pile the snow high, that my confidence and sense of play returned. President Obama, who was on my short-list of ideas for a sculpture, seemed doable, though not guaranteed. After shoveling the walkways and driveway it was a race against time to complete the sculpture. I wondered if there would be enough hours of daylight to finish the seven foot-plus project and apply paint. Fortunately, a few of those same friends who had been prodding me on social media showed up to help with the last touches of color.

After one day of light melting, the top-heavy Snowbama lilted sideways, his hair had gotten distinctly more gray. A smiling neighbor who had come to take a picture offered, ​“I think he needs Michelle; I hear there’s more snow coming Sunday.”