Snow Day

The excitement has been building for days. Forecast models began showing the possibility of snow across the Gulf Coast. I have been dreaming of experiencing a really good snow since I was a little girl. I wanted White Christmas complete with sleigh bells. I wanted to build a snowman, to ride on a sled, to throw a snowball, and make snow angels. Every corny Christmas movie scene was attractive to me, and I wanted to experience it all — just once. But as the decades rolled by, I was becoming resigned to the fact that I probably would not.

MyTallerHalf (MTH) is less enthralled with snow than I am. He has seen it. He has experienced it. The sound of snow crunching under his feet sets his teeth on edge. Be sure to make the snow angel first thing, warning me by his tone that it is the last thing I should do. Apparently, they never tell you in the movies that the snow melts, and your back ends up cold and wet.

Our dog shares MTH’s sentiments. I had imagined her barking and leaping to catch snowflakes on her tongue. Instead, she did her level best to avoid any contact with them. Not everyone sees the wonder.

I have been glued to James Spann’s YouTube channel, worried about my citrus trees and the strawberries I had just planted, yet expectant. Day by day, it seemed more certain that it would snow clear down to the beaches. At first, it was half an inch, then one inch, then two. When they reported an improbable six to eight inches, the excitement was palpable.

Yesterday afternoon, it began. It started with a few flakes so small they reminded me of dandruff. I am not completely new to snow. I have seen a few flurries. I remember it snowing in Orlando in 1977. It melted when it hit the ground, but I made a tiny snowman on my mother’s car. I was in college during Snow Jam ’82. The amount of snow on campus was disappointing, but Atlanta was shut down for days. I have seen snow in Montreal when I visited a cabane à sucre with friends. A few flakes fell, and there were mounds of dirty snow frozen solid along the edges of streets and paths. No snow angels, snowmen, or snowball fights were to be had, though we did ride in a wagon pulled by a horse with sleigh bells. That was lovely.

The snow kept coming, faster and harder, with fat flakes easily seen. At first, they dusted the ground, then there were patches of white, and after a couple of hours, there was a proper blanket of snow across our yard. It was so quiet. So perfect. The snow continued to fall.

The world was not completely silent. The birds were frantic. They seemed to sense the oncoming storm and continued to chirp and to empty our feeder as the snow fell. Neighbors, young and not so young, trampled the snow in the street in front of our house. Occasionally, the silence was interrupted by sounds of conversations, laughter, or an excited shout. Some had never seen snow in their lives. Some were reminiscing of past snows. There were no traffic sounds. Everything closed for the storm.

It was still snowing when I went to bed. When I woke up in the middle of the night, it was no longer snowing, but the ground was a thick blanket of white. Inside, it was cozy and warm. Outside, our lilies were covered in snow. MTH said it looked like 4-6″, and that seems about right. It will be a cold day. The snow will not melt right away. I thought of snowmen, snowballs, and snow angels. These are things I will probably not experience in my life, but I am content.

I experienced a really good snow, in Pixley, no less, and like every good and perfect gift, I know it came from our Father. I am still smiling, and I am sure He is smiling, too.

A Hot Time in the Old Town

Yesterday, just before 4:00 p.m., the power went out. That isn’t a terribly unusual occurrence, so we waited a breath to see if it would come right back on.

Two breaths. Three.

It was 91 degrees. Actual degrees, not heat index. The heat index was close to 101 °F. In a matter of minutes without the fans and window a/c, the house was a sauna. My Taller Half and I both have conditions that make us intolerant to heat. I was beginning to be nauseated. I looked over at our neighbor’s house. Her car was gone. I texted her to let her know the power was out, so not to hurry home.

My UPS was chirping a warning that my backup power was dwindling. I navigated to our power company website. They expected the power to be restored in an hour or two. We flipped the switch for the porch light and jumped in the car to take a blissfully cool drive. As we left town, we saw no lights. Police officers directed traffic at our busiest intersections. The team from Sonic gathered outside the restaurant, while one waved away cars from the drive-thru.

We headed over to Slightly Bigger Town, taking the long way. We stopped for a bite to eat. My Taller Half and I chatted over the everything from politics to entertainment to how that one rest stop on the highway was FINALLY open after The Big Storm that hit here nearly three years ago. It’s much smaller now. Clean but too practical. No character. I love long rides with my honey.

About two hours had passed when we drove back to Pixley. The traffic signals at the busier intersections were working, but not all the signals were. I suspected those signals had backup power. Everything was suspiciously dark and quiet. No porch light glowed in front of our house. The power company website stated that the power should be back by 6 a.m.

Let’s talk heat. My Taller Half and I are both natives and no strangers to heat. We grew up in homes without air conditioning. Our current home has no central a/c — only a couple of old window units, none in the bedroom. We use a lot of fans. We chuckle when we read news from the UK reporting that marathons were cancelled for temperatures in the low 70s. But as much as we hate to admit it, age and illness have taken their toll, and we both suffer from heat intolerance. Heat intolerance, a particular sensitivity to heat and humidity, has many causes. The very young and the very old are particularly susceptible. Heart medications, allergy medications, spinal cord injuries, diabetes, Postural Orthostatic Hypotension (POTS), Multiple Sclerosis (MS), Parkinson’s, Fibromyalgia, hyperthyroidism, and a host of other conditions can make temperatures that would ordinarily be merely unpleasant a potential danger.

I mentioned spending the night in a motel. Not a local motel — they had no power. My Taller Half said I could, but he would not leave the cats in the heat. I would not leave him in the heat. Neither of us brought up my poor dog … although she could have come to the motel. A couple of our cats love to loll about on a hot sidewalk and refuse to come inside when invited. I was pretty sure the heat wouldn’t hurt them. But I knew that, best case scenario, I would be in poor shape for work the next day if we sweltered all night. We entered the house. The UPS was silent. “I’m going to go buy a generator,” MTH announced.

We have talked about this a lot lately. It only makes sense with us living in a place that is fairly remote. It would be invaluable after another big storm, or when Jim Bob clips a power pole with his rig. And with heat intolerance, it’s a good idea to have a backup plan when you live in the South. We could afford it. Barely. But I didn’t know where we would store it, and it would put a big dent in our dwindling savings. I got online, and in minutes, I located an inexpensive (relatively), dual-fuel model that was highly rated. Now we had to drive to The Big City.

The route out of town was different than the one we took earlier, and everything was dark. The lights were out in our entire town. There were lights in the small town north of us. 170 days without an accident at the lumber mill. Well done!

The trip to The Big City was long but relatively uneventful. The most exciting part was struggling to fit the generator box in the car … and wondering how we would get it out again. We arrived home to a dark town and no porch light. The air outside was soup, and there was no breeze to stir it. The song of the frogs in the lot next door was almost drowned out by the thrum of generators running all over the neighborhood. It sounded as if the entire block decided to mow their lawns at once … in the dark. At least the moon was almost full. MTH went to gather flashlights. I ventured into the backyard to fetch the wheelbarrow. He began to work the generator box out of the back seat. We were working in the dark, in the heat, and mosquitoes the size of hummingbirds were snacking on My Taller Half. A feral cat who comes around looking for handouts was indignant that we didn’t immediately produce food. He hissed at me. Ingrate.

MTH managed to set up the generator while I fetched multiple towels to mop up his sweat, held flashlights, and did other very important tasks. He sent me into the house to fish the extension cord through the window and into the kitchen. He flipped the switch, and our generator added its blissful thrum to the neighborhood chorus. I was puzzling out how we would manage to plug in both the refrigerator and a fan when I heard the whirr of the window a/c and the telltale beep of the UPS. The power was back. I turned on the lights to signal we didn’t need the generator any more. I won’t repeat what My Taller Half said.

He hit the showers. I walked and fed my dog, then fed and watered the other assorted critters. The heat sent my heart rate a bit too high, so I decided to postpone my shower for a bit so that I could rest in front of the a/c and chronicle our adventures. We missed Trivia Night at work, but we survived, the food in the freezer didn’t melt, the temperatures in the house were now bearable, and we are prepared for the next disaster. Life is good.