I thought I’d better go to the supermarket again today because we have some serious snow in our weather forecast and I didn’t want to run out of groceries and have to tackle a snowstorm.
I expected the store to be crowded–people buying gallons of milk, heaps of batteries, whole carts-full of toilet paper–the usual pre-snow shopping panic. But I was surprised to find the store all but deserted this morning.
That’s not what’s supposed to happen!
This is a mystery. Have people learned not to believe the forecasts? Or was I just too early to meet the crowd?
We’ll see what happens tomorrow.
Well, here we go again–with a National Weather Service forecast of three straight days of snow, heavy at times, etc., etc. Starting tomorrow, they say: at the moment, there’s not a cloud in the sky.
So we bought some extra food, extra cigars, just in case we can’t go shopping Monday; but what I’ve learned from these melodramatic weather forecasts is to expect two or three inches of snow, followed by lots of rain. That’s what almost always happens.
If the point of these forecasts is to scare us, all right, fine–they’ve scared their audience. But aside from that, what good are forecasts that almost always turn out to be wrong? Who have they got working for the NWS, and how much is it costing us? Is it possible they really do use ouija boards to predict the weather?
I would enjoy a few inches of snow. I’d enjoy sitting by the window, watching it. Maybe catch up on my reading. I got Sir Walter Scott’s Kenilworth for Christmas: a stay-at-home snow day would be ideal for starting that.
Let’s just see if they got it right this time. I’ll keep you posted.
Note: There wasn’t much panic to be seen at the supermarket on Friday. Maybe people are having crisis fatigue.
I don’t know what it’s like where you are, but here in New Jersey, this May and last May have been unseasonably cold and rainy. My own blog archives tell me so. And so much for Global Warming.
When I wrote The Throne, I was able to start writing it in April and finish in late October. Last year, I couldn’t start The Wind from Heaven until May 24, and I finished in early November on the last day–really, the very last–I possibly could have finished, before the bad weather set in until the next spring. Although actually it’s still here.
I’ve been waiting for a sign to start writing the next book, but all I’ve got so far is an Ornitholestes sneaking around the underbrush in Lintum Forest. Is that what the Lord wants me to use as a starting-point? Can it work?
Well, I’m running short of time, so I might as well take the first step and see if it leads to a second. Say a little prayer for me.
Not at all likely!
There was some snow in the forecast earlier this week–we got about half an inch–and when we went to the supermarket that morning, almost all the milk had already been bought out. ‘Cause when it snows, you’ll need several gallons of milk, at least a dozen packages of toilet paper, and a boxful of batteries.
Aargh! It’s Gonna Snow! Oh, Nooooo!
This is New Jersey. We don’t have snowstorms that shut you in for a week. Nor do we have tornadoes, wildfires, or volcanoes (just the very occasional minor earthquake: which, I admit, is startling). So why does everybody panic whenever there’s snow in the weather forecast? Half the time, at least, it turns out there isn’t any at all.
It’s one of those things I just can’t figure out.
The picture is, I admit, overly dramatic. The big heavy branch that the storm tore off last night missed Patty’s car, and a neighbor’s, literally by inches. I had to move it today; it was heavy enough to have done some serious damage.
These last several days have been murder–“the heat would make yer bloomin’ eyebrows crawl,” as Rudyard Kipling said. And when it isn’t as hot as the welding section on the old Ford assembly line, it’s been raining torrentially with scads of thunder and lightning.
Something, I don’t know what, happened on Route 1 during last night’s storm and spilled into our town, which was already halfway flooded. I never saw such traffic in my life–not that it was moving or anything. What was I doing, out in this madhouse? Don’t ask! I made it to the supermarket and their lights were knocked out. Somehow I made it home.
Now I know, because you’ve said so, that some of you get a bit blue when bad weather keeps up for any length of time. Who can blame you? Not me!
Sheesh, hot weather and thunderstorms in July–who would’ve thought it?
Probably Donald Trump’s fault.