Remember ‘Snowmageddon’? That was 10 years ago. Feel old yet?

The first of the two back-to-back "Snowmageddon" storms was the larger of the pair, dropping 25 inches at BWI. Unable to use transportation or walk on sidewalks, Jackie Sansone heads for work, following the packed-down path of a vehicle on Monument St to reach St Paul St. Feb. 6, 2010.

The Great Arctic Outbreak of 1899 started with a foot of snow on Feb. 5 and struck again with 21 inches on Valentine's Day. The season's tally came to 51 inches, a record that lasted until 1996's 62.5 inches.

Glen Burnie resident Alfred Anderson digs his way out of 'Snowmaggedon' in February 2010.

A record-breaking 29.2 inches fell at BWI as a slow-moving storm that was sucking up Atlantic moisture crawled up the East Coast. Chris Holder, left, and Chris Hauger try as best they could to help push a loaded six-wheel dump and salt spreader which became stuck at the intersection of Charles and Mulberry streets on Saturday, Jan. 23.

What became known as the Palm Sunday Storm struck as a shock, with forecasts having called for light rain and flurries west of Baltimore. Instead, 22 inches of wet, heavy snow fell. Here, the snow is pictured on St. Paul Street looking north from Read Street.

Rebecca Girvin leans out the second floor window of her home in the 700 block of East Lake Avenue in the Lake-Walker neighborhood to push snow off her front porch roof. She had trouble extending the broom far enough to push the snow over the edge of the roof. With the sun shining, area residents began to dig out after the latest snowfall, which brought the total snow accumulation in Maryland this winter to a record-breaking 79 inches.

The Blizzard of 1983 dropped 22.8 inches of snow, at the time the second-biggest storm in Baltimore's history. Here, Howard Hursey shovels snow in front of his house at 1201 Wilcox Street with help of his daughter, Tammy, 10.

After years of putting in near-full-time hours at a job that was never supposed to be more than part-time, Joan McGinnis Welch had almost forgotten what time with her family felt like. But when the blizzard hit and her office shut down for a week, it all came back. The 53-year-old mother of two baked with her daughters and walked the dog. She scrubbed the fridge and organized the coat closet. She posted pictures on Facebook of her newly spic-and-span pantry. "Oh it was just so nice," Welch signs. "We just did so much. I missed this." Welch, who lives in Annapolis, had spent 20 years working for the government, but cut back to part-time work once she had her family. At the time of the big snow, she'd been working for years as a business manager for local company. The firm had her logging more than 30 hours a week at a job that was supposed to be no more than 20. She wasn't getting along with her boss. Getting a load of laundry done during the week meant getting up at 5 a.m. to squeeze it in before work. "When the cleared the roads, I had the feeling of, ?Omigosh I have to go back to that job,'" she says. "And then I thought. No. I don't." That first day back after the thaw, she gave notice. "I didn't realize how unhappy I was until I didn't have to go in," Welch says. "I was raised to stick with something and not quit and walk away. I didn't realize I had that option." Since then, she's found a job she does home, being an administrative assistant for a wedding planner. She can -- and does -- work in her pajamas.

Driven by gusts up to 50 mph, snow piled in drifts as high as 10 feet in the first month of 1922. The storm dumped 26.5 inches of snow on Baltimore in 24 hours.

Residents at Briarwood Rd. in Catonsville, pitch in to clear over two feet of snow from sidewalks and street following a Jan. 1996 storm.

This is a bird's eye view of the snow covered Washington Monument and surroundings as seen from the 18th floor of the Westminster House on Charles and Centre Streets.

Mail carrier Jonathan Edwards gets stuck on Foster Avenue in Canton during the "Snowmageddon" storm in February 2010.

Last call at the American Legion Hall in Edgewood came early February 9, 2010, the night before the epic blizzard. Ed McCann, commander of the post whose hall has been a popular gathering place in the Harford County town for everything from karaoke to bingo to weddings, told the bartender around 8:30 p.m. to start pouring his last drinks because the snow was already coming down pretty hard. The bartender has yet to pour another one. The next day, the roof collapsed and destroyed the 32-year-old hall, canceling more than a year's worth of Friday night line dancing, Sunday evening bingo, weddings and the Easter egg hunt and the Halloween party for kids. "I was devastated," said McCann, a Vietnam vet who had taken over the post in July 2009 and had been working with other volunteers to build up the group's finances."There are few places where you could get a nice dinner and a few drinks for so little money. It was very difficult to get used to it not being here." Still dealing with insurance issues, the post started rebuilding its hall in December. Volunteers had to find other venues for the weddings and other parties that had been scheduled at the hall, as well as for a fundraiser of their own to help with rebuilding costs (the VFW on Ebenezer Road came through for that). McCann says the post hopes to re-open by Memorial Day. For Carol Carden, who lives right behind the hall and organizes many of its social events, losing the hall was losing a hangout for retirees, service personnel from nearby Aberdeen Proving Ground and other locals. Sports fans came to watch baseball in the summer and football in the winter, kids knew to look for the decorated mailbox in December to drop their letters to Santa and then await his response in their own mailboxes at home. But most of all, said Carden, a former president of the post's women's auxiliary, "it was a place to go to be with other people." "You felt comfortable there. When you go in, you know everybody there," said Carden, the former president of the post's women's auxiliary. "It's really left a void in my life."

With snow storms dropping more then 45 inches of snow in the last five days in the Baltimore area, people are doing what they have to to get out. Bill Reynolds of Parkton is trying to shovel tire tracks down his 100 yard drive way to get to the plowed road after his normal snow plow contractor said the snow was to deep for him to plow, and he was not going to come.

Sylvia Pryor managed to hang onto her inner California girl for the near-decade she'd lived in Baltimore, tooling around town in a BMW Z3 convertible. Then came the blizzards of 2010. Driving in snow had been a challenge for the Los Angeles native since she and her roadster moved to Charm City in 2001, but together, they'd persevered. "I've muddled through the snow before, getting stuck in 2, 3 inches of snow in my rear-wheel drive [vehicle]," said Pryor, 42, who lives in Roland Park and works in marketing in Harbor East. "I'd get stuck, and I'd beg passersby to push me." She was willing to put up with seasonal automotive indignities to stay behind the wheel of that adorable two-seater. But she knew better than to take it on the road after last year's big storms. "In previous years I've tried to make it work," she said. "I just said, ?Forget it.' ... This particular snowstorm, there was no muddling through. I just had to put it away." She left her convertible in the parking garage at work and for weeks used her husband's Honda SUV to get to and from the office. (He was away on business much of that time.) After that, Pryor decided to trade her beloved dark gray convertible for a front-wheel drive dark gray VW wagon. Something else contributed to that decision: Pryor was expecting a baby. (Her son, Theodore, was born in May.) But Pryor said the snow really was the driving force. "That put the nail in the coffin for that car," she said. "There was a part of me that wanted to keep that little bit of my California identity. The storm probably stamped out the last bit of my California persona."

Stuck inside with snow piling to ridiculous heights, Nicole Nickerson amused herself by chatting on Facebook with every friend in her arsenal. When the 29-year-old teacher tapped her friend supply, she answered a message from a total stranger. It was the son of a fellow teacher at her school. Her co-worker had been trying for a while to fix them up. "He just started messaging me," remembers Nickerson, who teaches English at Hereford Middle. "He wrote, ?Hey what are you doing?' He wanted to know what comfort foods I liked. And did I want him to come over in his Jeep to get me -- it was kind of creepy. But I figured I might as well talk to this weirdo. I was bored." They talked and talked, typing late into the night and more over the following days. Having a bit of fun despite herself, Nickerson asked the young man, Tim Cross, if he wanted to meet her for a concert in Towson -- the show happened to be on Valentine's Day. "I just wanted to meet him to know for sure that I didn't like him," she says. After they segued to a bar to get something to eat after she show -- Nickerson realized that she actually did like him. Rather a lot. When they made plans to meet a few days later, the lasting snow kept Nickerson from wearing her cute shoes but didn't stop Cross from bringing her a belated Valentine's treat -- a Snickers bar and a box of Lucky Charms, one of those comfort foods they'd talked about on Facebook. "I had like $5 to my name, but I had to do something," Cross says. After that, the two were pretty much inseparable. On the day before Thanksgiving, Cross presented Nickerson with a ring decorated with a sapphire and diamonds that sparkle like freshly fallen snow. They plan to be married Aug. 12 at Baltimore's Belvedere Hotel. "Now when I think of snow days, I think of being trapped and talking to him," Nickerson says. "Winter is our season."

For most of us, the twin snowstorms that dumped nearly 4 feet of snow on the area a year ago this week are nothing more than a year-old memory. But for some, Snowmageddon was a life-changing event. Something that led a long-estranged father and son to reconnect. That made a childless couple into parents. All that snow, and all the time it provided Marylanders for goofing around and baking cookies with the kids, helped a young teacher find love and convinced a mom to quit her job. It also cost a California transplant her snazzy but winter-wimpy roadster and continues to rob a community of a favorite gathering place.

Albert Scharbach of Baltimore and his dog "Balti" cross country ski along Pratt Street.

Diane Kratz plays with her nephew, Donald Diotte, Jr. as her daughter Corinna Kratz, center, looks on.

The hill by the pagoda in Patterson Park attracts thrill seekers even as winds whip and snow continues to fall.

Fritz Schantz used the time his workplace was closed for the snowstorms to rig up a home solar heating system. The project not only made the family playroom useable in winter (and got the Wii out of the living room) but turned Schantz into something of a DIY solar guru. Schantz, 48, had long been interested in solar heat, and he wanted to go with a homemade system instead of commercial solar panels. That's partly because of cost. (With commercial panels, shipping alone would cost more than the $200 he spent doing it himself.) And partly because he's a self-described "extreme DIY guy." ("When the washing machine breaks, I research it on the net and find out how to fix it," he said.) With two kids and a day job -- he's director of multimedia services with the Maryland Attorney General's office -- he never seemed to get around to building the solar hot air collector he was pining for. When the first big storm was looming last February, he saw his chance. Schantz raced to Home Depot like the rest of the world, but instead of buying snow blowers, shovels and salt, he filled his cart with the wood, insulation board, gutter downspouts and glazing material (called SunTuf polycarbonate) that he needed to build his solar rig. "Our office closed for a week or whatever it was," he said. "It gave me the wonderful amount of time I needed." Beyond that, Schantz has become a resource for other aspiring solar do-it-yourselfers, sharing the knowledge he gained from his own project as a moderator on Yahoo forum called Simply Solar. And he's getting ready to embark on a solar water-heating project. If only it would snow

Harford County snow plows clear snow drifts at Reckord and Mountain Roads trying to keep pace with the on-going snowfall during the "Snowmageddon" blizzard of February 2010. More than 40 inches of snow covered most of the county.

Snow drifted over Spa Creek in Annapolis, where this intrepid sailor shoveled 200 feet to get to his boat.

At the time, Ted Miller Jr. thought shoveling out from the blizzard was back-breaking work. But digging a path from his Carroll County home to his car, and helping neighbors do the same, gave him pain that still radiates from his hands to his shoulders. He'd had some disabling back and neck problems in the past, but his "shovel elbow" just wouldn't go away. "Apparently, shoveling the Double Blizzard of 2010 was the 2-humped camel that broke my straw elbows," said Miller Miller, who works part time with mentally disabled children, has been to many doctors in the past year seeking treatment. He's been to a primary care physician, orthopedic surgeons, hand specialists, physical therapists, rheumatoid arthritis specialists and spiritual healers. He's tried a 40-day vegetable juice diet and diet supplements, MRIs, X-rays and nerve conductivity studies. The man who also runs a ministry out of his home said he's also done a lot of praying. At the end of the month, he plans to have surgery that he hopes will repair some pinched nerves. And how does he feel about snow? "I'm definitely not doing any more shoveling."

A man holding a shovel and broom stares at a line of buried cars near Patterson Park during the second of two major snow storms in February 2010.

High winds whip snow off roofs on Park Avenue in Baltimore City.

Locals snowboard by towrope from a 4x4 jeep up Main St., Old Ellicott City. The blizzard of 2010 left the area covered in over two feet of snow.

A blanket of snow covers berries, the underside of trees and various objects. This snowstorm in 2010 dropped 26.5 inches on Baltimore.

Baltimore's biggest December snowfall on record came in 2009, dumping 18 inches at Baltimore/Washington International Thurgood Marshall Airport. It is the only December storm to rank among Baltimore's 10 biggest snowfalls. Here, Barney Fox and wife Florencia Fox walk their children up Park Avenue in Bolton Hill on Saturday, Dec. 19, 2009.

Pedestrians pass by the roundhouse at the B&O Railroad Museum on West Pratt Street in southwestern Baltimore on Feb.17, 2003, where the roof gave way under the weight of snow from one of the heaviest snowfalls in the area's history.