Hillsdale, being in Michigan, had large quantities of snow in winter. Very often the snow that fell in December was still there in April, albeit covered by more snow. It was common in the winter semester from mid-January to early May to wake up to snow a couple of feet deep. I had a small yellow house just across the road from the campus, and kept clear a two-foot wide trench from my front door to that road, and from there had entry into the college buildings, which were contiguous.
I was only once snowed up completely. I woke up to realize it was darker than it should be, even for a February morning. When I drew the curtains I saw the reason. The snow was above them, several feet deep. I could not see the top of it, and I could not open the door because the snow came almost up to the roof.
I telephoned the college to explain I could not get to my classes, and they were very sympathetic, pointing out that some other professors and lecturers were in a similar position. I did not have the day off, however. Not much later that morning I heard a muffled commotion outside from my front garden, followed by a knock on my door. I opened it to find that some intrepid students from a nearby fraternity house had come to dig me out. They had cleared a pathway through snow that was many feet thick. Indeed, it was about as tall as I am because they had shoveled it and thrown it to each side, piling it on top of the settled snow. They all had broad grins at their achievement and happily escorted me to the college, where I gave my classes to an only slightly depleted audience.