Well, boys and girls, the laugh is on me. It started snowing around 1 p.m. Lots of water; nothing to it. But by 4 p.m., when I got off? The car was covered. Not with a thin layer of snow but a LOT of snow. And just where is the scraper, with the brush, that has been in the car for fore-v-e-r? Not to be found. But the road is passable. Home again, home again, jiggity jog.
It is now 9:30 p.m., and it is STILL snowing. I swear that I am back in D.C. The magnolia limbs are touching the ground. The walkways are nowhere to be seen. Thank God I don't have to shovel the sidewalks...don't have one...and I'm off tomorrow. So I won't be shoveling the driveway, either.
My friend, in Dyersburg, called from the store around eight. Quickly told her that she needed to be leaving and heading out. Take the straightest route home; leave the hills and curves alone (like that's possible). She said that her husband was supposed to catch a flight out of Memphis in the a.m., was enroute to his brother's to spend the night, and that he only got as far as Ripley, where he took a room. Took him an hour-and-a-half to drive from Dyersburg to Ripley when he decided that the roads were just impossible. Luckily for him, the flight has been delayed until tomorrow evening. At the rate that it is snowing, it'll take him all day tomorrow to get to the airport. This WILL NOT melt by mid-day.
Now, I'm not complaining (or am I) about serious snow. But it is one of the reasons I was trying to move south. It is the dusting that sends everyone into a panic that amuses me. But this? This is when you find a hole and stay in it. In the household in which I grew up, bad weather like this meant a pot of something on the stove. Sounds like a pot of lima beans with ham hocks and cornbread to me. And, of course, there's the gumbo to finish off, as well.
So take a look at the homestead. I'll let you know what tomorrow brings, tomorrow.
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