Stella Reddy's Story

What a wild stretch of weather we’ve had here in Newfoundland. Forty‑six centimetres of snow in one go is no small thing—even for us hardy folks who like to pretend we’re unfazed by a little white chaos. St. John’s looked like it had been dropped straight into a snow globe and then shaken by someone with enthusiasm. Walls of snow, buried cars, and that classic “well, I guess I’m not going anywhere today” vibe settled over the whole city.

The storm started Sunday night, so Monday was a snow day! Everything was closed. Good thing hubby and I went out on Sunday morning to get some groceries. We even lost power a couple of times on Monday, but it wasn’t gone for long. We were prepared for the storm.

Being stranded at home the past couple of days has its perks, though. Once I accepted that my driveway was basically a frozen barricade, I surrendered to the stillness. I made coffee, curled up, and let myself fall into the YouTube rabbit hole—documentaries, music videos, random creators I’ve never heard of, and the kind of oddly soothing content you only watch when the world outside is buried. Honestly? It was nice to just stop for a minute.

But the real spark keeping me warm through all this snow this week? TROOPER. TOMORROW. FEBRUARY 5. I’m practically vibrating with excitement—nothing like a legendary Canadian rock band to blast away the winter blues. I’ve been humming “Raise a Little Hell” while shovelling a bit yesterday, which feels spiritually appropriate. If the roads cooperate and I can actually escape my snowy prison, I’ll be there—loud, proud, and probably still half-frozen. (I’ll share the song)

For now, though, I’m tucked inside, watching the city dig itself out and counting down the hours until the concert tomorrow evening. Winter may have me stuck, but it hasn’t stolen my joy.

Somewhere in the quiet of the past few weeks, something unexpected cracked open in me. I’ve been so relaxed! Sitting here with the world outside buried in white, I realized I’m no longer carrying that same heaviness. The noise that once followed me everywhere has finally gone quiet, and I can breathe in a way I haven’t been able to in years. It feels like reclaiming space inside myself that was stolen, and I’m letting that sink in.