…and take my cues from the black bear. Hibernate. You know you’re in for trouble when the Weather Channel’s meteorologist, with a happy gleam in his eye, announces your forecast as “very interesting.” His voice takes on a more excited pitch as strange maps showing front lines, cloud formations, and places where such things will “collide” in the atmosphere flicker on the screen like dreadful oracles. Weather was never this exciting in my youth except when snowstorms meant school closings.
According to the best predictions, a massive storm that’s now out near California will rumble down south, slam Texas with ice, then sneak in through the back door into the southeastern United States. Just as this nasty trick occurs, an icy blast of Canadian air (gee, thanks our neighbors to the north) will hit the California traveler, creating a band of snow and/or ice over our region Friday and Saturday.
Ice is bad out here in the countryside. Very bad. Not only will it take down trees, but it will take out power lines. No power means I have no water. We did buy a generator, but a small one to keep essentials like a space heater and the refrigerator going. I have been stockpiling drinking water all year in containers in the basement for just such an occasion, however.
So my Thursday might be spent (depending on the updated forecast) filling bathtubs with water, charging the laptop and cell phone batteries, and making sure all the flashlights, lanterns and candles are where the rest of the family can find them (for I appear to be the only one in the entire household who can remember this fact.) For the uninitiated into country life, filling the tub with water is so that you can dunk a bucket into the tub water, draw a bucket out, and dump it into the toilet tank to flush it.
I’m actually better prepared than before, which is usually a sign that nothing will happen. It’s like taking an umbrella when it threatens to rain; umbrellas ward off rain very well. I’ve got paper plates and cups and disposable utensils (so we don’t waste water washing dishes if the water isn’t working), enough canned food to feed an army, Ritz crackers and peanut butter (somehow a staple when the power is off), a propane stove and grill for cooking, and a pantry stocked with pet food (Pierre the Portly breathes a sigh of relief and pats his chubby tummy). Batteries in the radio and a pile of unread books. MP3 player charged? Check. Hey, I might be snowed in, but I plan to be comfortable.
I think I will take my cue from the black bear and hibernate if it snows a lot. I will dive under a thick comforter with a stack of seed catalogs and dream about warm weather, digging my hands into the dirt, and watching hummingbirds buzz on by the geraniums on the porch.
The photo below is me and my Shadow girl in the road here taking our walk after the snowstorm of March 2008 .
