In my last post, I talked about the “destructive” and “crippling” ice storm predicted for North Carolina last weekend, both at home in Highlands and here at the coast. “I hope our friends and neighbors will come through what looks like the worst ice storm in years,” I said, and we watched last weekend as the ice storm, while downing trees and power lines in the mountains, pretty much fizzled out. It was a balmy 50 degrees here on Sunday! Coastal weather is notoriously difficult to predict.
I learned only today that that storm was named “Fern,” which should have told me by its delicate-sounding name that it would not destroy or cripple us. I also should have listened to the young woman who cut my hair last week, and the young woman who handed me my take-out from Amos Mosquito Restaurant, both of whom had lived here “all their lives” (which, combined, would be just a little over half of my lifespan so far), both of whom said, “Not going to happen!” Now we are awaiting a second storm (named Gianna) and I am wondering if I should consult these young prophetesses before believing the alarming predictions of another, second winter storm this weekend called (according to who you listen to), a Polar Vortex, a Snowmageddon, or a Bomb Cyclone. I grew up in Connecticut and remember more than one such storm, by the way, but those were simpler times. We called them blizzards. And they didn't have silly names.
Prepare for the Worst, Hope for the Best – that’s our motto. So we have “stocked up” on food and drink enough to last several days. Now we wait and see.
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