The weather forecasters up here like to be dramatic and they are often throwing out gruesome scares about tornadoes, flooding rains, fierce winds and mega snowstorms that never happen. Like Chicken Little, we don't pay much attention to them anymore!
by Charlie Leck
The weatherman started warning us sometime yesterday that a big one -- maybe resembling the blizzard of 1888 or the giant snow of Halloween in 1991 -- was on it's way. A few of my friends like to make fun of the forecasters (doomsdayers, they call them); yet, once in awhile they've got to get it right. They nailed this one.
The dog was howling to get back in within 30 seconds.
I can hear, in my mind, readers in South Carolina, Georgia, Florida and other southern states, wondering what the hell I'm still doing in Minnesota at my age and stage in life. Only sometimes I wonder that, too. This is one of those mornings.
There's hours and hours of work to do to clear the sidewalks and the long driveway out to the road and then the roads and trails around the farm. It's back-breaking work and exasperating with the way the winds are right now. Clear the snow away and then watch the wind blow it back in.
It's 19 degrees out there right now and the forecast is for a low of 7 degrees below zero tonight.
As I write this little and terribly unimportant blog, this is the way it looks on the deck outside my treetop study. The wind is really picking up. Anne is outside, trying to get the chains on one of the big tractors so she can start blowing snow off the roads. I'm useless to her right now. A week or so ago, my right hip just sort of gave up. I had the left one replaced approximately 6 years ago. I knew that the right one was going, but I didn't expect it to turn from minor to major so very quickly. One thing I can't image doing this morning is shoveling and plowing snow. I can barely sit down here at my desk without the pain savaging me. I moving toward the replacement surgery in January. I can't wait.
I've been on the phone, trying to get one of our workman over here to help out. He didn't sound enthused but said he's on his way. On his part, it's an act of employment preservation. He's got to do the work that I would normally do. I'll give him a bonus and make a smile come to his face.
A good friend is flying in this morning from Brazil. He's in the air right now. I wonder if the plane will be able to land or if it will need to divert. Welcome home to Minnesota! We're to have dinner with him tomorrow night. It's been set up I'm sure, so he can show off his tanned and darkened complexion.
In the meantime, I'll just think in envy of my brother down there in Florida and many of my golfing friends who've moved into their winter quarters in Florida, Arizona and Southern California. I've resisted such a winter residence because it seemed to me that the adventure of a Minnesota winter was not to be missed. This morning I'm beginning to wonder if I might not be crazy. A round of golf in Florida this morning sounds like a mighty fine way to spend a winter day.
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