It seems that the weather is less severe now than it used to be.
When we lived on the Fern Cliff road, one winter we had a snow storm that lasted three days. The snow blocked the roads. At that time we had a small herd of cows, a team of horses and some hens. We needed grain for the animals, and groceries for the family, as well as containers for holding the milk.
Dad hooked the team to the sleigh, loaded in the milk, and headed for town about five miles away. He took the milk to the “station”, bought some grain for the animals and some groceries for us. He fed the horses and got something to eat. By this time, the storm had increased and it was starting to get dark. He started home, up Vickerman Hill. Visibility had decreased; the temperature had dropped to freezing. Dad had to walk out in front of the horses, leading the team to keep them on the road. It was a struggle to keep moving and it was well after dark when he finally arrived. It showed the determination and bravery that was needed in this period of time in history. Even everyday tasks necessary to life could become death defying in the brutal weather I remember from my boyhood.