As I write this, the CBW is learning to be a cowgirl; we are waiting for the blizzard of 2022 to hit (it’s just raining right now, the sort of dreary, mist then drops and back again constant pattering that probably inspired Chinese water torture). All of our animals have been settled into barn stalls and are quietly out of the cold and wind and wet, waiting for the storm to come. My kids are all home from work, the evening has fallen and according to he weather report, it’s going to break out all over us in 4 hours.
Do you remember the blizzard of 1978? It started like this storm. It had rained the day before and through the night on and off, but back then we didn’t have the early warning system. Danny had gotten off to work, I was a young mom of a toddler feeling increasingly uneasy as I washed dishes and watched it get dark outside. I recall hearing the wind come up suddenly and the rain turning to large flakes of snow, then smaller, and it started to howl like an angry wolf. I made sure the door was fastened., I recall thinking Dan must be almost to the office by now. I’m going to call and be sure in another half hour or so, just to be sure.
We lived in a small apartment on my folks farm. He worked in Columbus. My dad came down and pounded on the door. “Electricity’s apt to go out; be sure you’ve got a couple buckets of water in the tub and a pitcher in the fridge. Mom sent down some bread she just took out of the oven. I’m checking the stock and I’m going up and won’t be down. If you and the baby need to come up tot he house, or if Danny doesn’t get back, be sure you travel from tree to tree on the walkway up to the house; you won’t be able to see; it’s really going to get bad out here. I can hardly stand up. You be careful. I ain’t seen it like this since I was a kid back in the mountains.” I remember thinking how odd it was Dad was carrying his big flashlight lantern; he had his hand on the side of the garage and followed it down to the barn: I watched him disappear in the wall of snow. About ten minutes later, Dan pulled into the driveway and up by our apartment. He stumbled to the door. “They were closing the interstate behind me; only thing got me through was front wheel drive.” I’d shut the door behind him and locked it tight. I heard someone pounding and it was my dad, back from the barn. “Glad you got home safe,” he said as he stumbled in. “Everything is locked down, you all better stay inside until tomorrow. Weatherman said that we haven’t had a blizzard like this in central Ohio since 1913; the weather is breaking all the records. You stay in. I’m going up and mom and me are going to eat soup and hot bread and wait it out. You have a problem, try to call but I suspect the lines are going to be down soon. You be careful and I got to get back to the house.” I watched his light as he walked up the sidewalk to the house, gusts nearly knocking him over. I turned back to the stove and made lunch and we sat inside, warm and cozy, watched the storm outside blow itself out after a couple days.
That was 44 years ago. This storm is not supposed to be as large or as long, but it’s apt to be nasty. I do hope you and yours are safe in this storm and warm. I hope you have a great Christmas and New Year’s and I shall start telling you about all the new things that are going to happen here at the farm later, but for now, stay warm, God Bless and hope you get some of what you need, some of what you want and all the love you can hold. Merry Christmas!
P.S. And during the stay inside time, why not try out kindle vella and enjoy something old that’s new again? Vella is serialized stories like we used to have in the Sunday papers when I was a kid-except mine drop chapters three times a week. There are lots of books on there from just about every fiction venue. Here’s my address: