2009-03-05 / Editorial Page

Dear Hearts and Gentle People

Where else but Lincoln County could there be tornado warnings, thunderstorm warnings, flooding, snow, and freeze warnings….all in one day!

The fact is, most weather forecasters don't have a clue what kind of weather to expect from hour to hour and, frankly, what difference does it make anyway? We don't control the weather, never have, never will and I'm pretty sure that no matter how much or how long you pray for snow, the Good Lord probably isn't too concerned with our opinions on the weather, anyway.

I know, because I've prayed many times for snow and, alas, there was none. It's a crap shoot, folks. You either get it or you don't and here in the South we seldom get it. That's why, when we do, we go bat crazy!

We did that yesterday. For a couple of days George Meyers predicted "snow flurries but not much accumulation." Now, for those of us who get as excited over snow as we do over Santa's arrival, George's prediction, when translated, sounded much like this: "Grab your stocking caps and long-johns, load up on bread, milk, and firewood, and get thee inside thy house before the blizzard hits."

Snow clinging to the bumper of our car (acquired going 25 mph in Flowery Branch) is all that is left of the "Great Blizzard of 2009." Snow clinging to the bumper of our car (acquired going 25 mph in Flowery Branch) is all that is left of the "Great Blizzard of 2009." Talk about the weather Saturday was spreading like kudzu.

"Is it true? Is it really going to snow 6 feet deep?"

"Well, that there's what I heard that man on TV say. Wellst that's what I'm a'thinkin' he said. Lula Mae was runnin' that dang vacuum cleaner and I couldn't har very good."

By nightfall Saturday we were nestled inside, reared back and ready for the Blizzard of the Century, and lovin' every minute of it!

We woke up Sunday only to be disappointed. Not a snowflake in sight, but instead a flood of gargantuan proportions.

"See," said my hopelessly cynical hubby. "I told you it wasn't going to snow."

(Look up "Scrooge" in your dictionary and you'll find his picture.)

I never gave up hope.

"Don't you remember the blizzard of '93?" I asked him. "It was in March, too."

"Yeah, but that was then and this is now," he said smugly. (I love his scholarly answers.)

I still continued to hope that by nightfall the rain would have stopped and the snow would cover the ground like a blanket of white, all while we slept. Then I would wake up, go to the window, then yell for the children to get up and see this wonderful thing that had come to pass!

My daddy, a kid at heart all his life, loved a good snowfall. He would get so excited, get my sister and me out of bed, and then the three of us (my mother hates snow, she's always afraid her pipes will freeze) would bundle up and head outside to throw snowballs and slide up and down the hill beside Mr. Frank Guillebeau's house.

The piece de resistance was snow ice cream. Mama would melt sugar in a little water, and then add milk and vanilla flavoring and Yummy, that was the best treat in all the world.

By lunch Sunday I was beginning to lose hope of seeing any more white stuff this year. We decided to pay our little granddaughter a visit and an hour and a half later as we pulling in their driveway, the skies opened and the biggest snowflakes I have ever seen were covering their lawn.

It continued to snow for over an hour and the flakes were multiplying with every second, prompting Scrooge to comment: "I think this is the most and biggest snowflakes I've ever seen in Georgia!" From his mouth to God's ears, I thought, and excitement overcame me again and I knew we would have snow in Amity after all.

We drove home yesterday afternoon in a blinding snowstorm, traveling at 25 mph.

We had to detour past I-85 and come home through Braselton, Houscton, and Winder. The ride was slippery but our 4-wheel drive Tahoe kept us in the road.

Others were not so lucky. I bet we saw twenty five cars laying this way and that in ditches and sideways in the middle of the road, like so many Match Box cars placed there by some sadistic little boy.

Looking forward to an early Monday morning snow, we were elated to see on the 11 o'clock news that schools would be closed. And trust me dear hearts, for Superintendent Edmunds to call off school, the circumstances must be dire. Either that or we were about to engage in nuclear warfare.

I went to sleep watching the flakes fall gently outside my bedroom window and couldn't wait to get up in the morning and whip up some warm hot chocolate and pull out a good book.

I got out of bed about 4 o'clock, padded my way to the kitchen to get something to drink and found my hubby in the den by the fire.

"I told you it wasn't going to snow," he said with a self-satisfied smile on his face.

"You're lying," I told him, and I walked over to the French doors and flipped on the deck light.

Not a flake in sight. Not one. We've been cheated again. George Myers, you done me wrong.

Bad news: No snow.

Good news: I've got enough bread, milk, and eggs to last me through next Christmas.

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