Being a meteorologist may take a particular cluster of personality traits. Will it or will it not . . .? The increasing scientific approach to weather forecasting saves many lives. But there times when predicted weather just does not happen.
Clem and I sit here in our study - periodically looking out the big windows to discern if this weather warning covering all of the state will actually happen. So far only an occasional snowflake or two drift by.
There is something cozy about the thought of being snowed-in. All of our childhood memories of growing up on the prairie and blizzards that would cause schools to close. I think it was a common child's prayer - let the wind howl and the snow blow huge drifts! It was like a gift from the gods.
If a person uses common sense about venturing out in snow storms (or stays home), drives with caution, and ice does not bring down power lines, winter blizzards are fairly low risk weather dramas. Not so some of weather's other surprises.
Cleaning out old computer files I ran across a piece I wrote when we got caught in a wide swath of tornadoes. We were driving home in June from a writers' conference in Santa Fe:
The words, “in the eye of the storm,” usually mean the eerie stillness at a storm's center. Not this time! We were at the center of fierce weather sweeping across southern Minnesota - and it was anything but still.
The first indication of bad weather came as we traveled through northern Iowa. Clouds began darkening the western sky. Two trucks passed us. Behind their cabs were satellite dishes labeled atmospheric research. They were accompanied by an SUV labeled Storm Watchers. When they left the freeway to veer northeast, we relaxed. Whatever was going on was not likely a threat to us – or so we thought.
Ominous clouds became a thick bank on the horizon. Little fingers dipped down as if checking out the ground below. Then they would be swallowed back up by the growing monster across the sky. Crossing the border into Minnesota, torrential rain began. Then hail that sounded like rocks pelting our vehicle. We sought refuge under a bridge with other cars and trucks, wondering how much damage our poor van sustained. When the rain stopped, we apprehensively eased back unto the freeway. The radio began reporting tornado funnels and touchdowns.
Now the tentative fingers reaching down were more assertive. Definitely these were tornadoes west of us. I dug out a detailed map of familiar home territory, trying to figure out what we could do - while the radio broadcast a continuous stream of weather information. Touchdowns near by and moving northeast. Torrential rain again, this time harder. Emergency vehicles periodically appeared and then disappeared - red, and blue lights points of light in the growing late afternoon darkness. Ambulances, state troopers, fire trucks tore by.
We pulled over on the freeway shoulder as visibility dropped to almost zero. The intensity of the rain grew with the wind. The highway beside us was barely visible. Out my window I could look down at grasses bent flat to the ground in the wind. Our van rocked in the wind.
The radio warned people to stay out from under bridges. Go to your basements, get out of your vehicles and into ditches, be alert for flash floods. We looked at each other. The ditches were full now with water. Death by tornado or by drowning seemed to be our options.
We tracked the storm's path on the radio and on the map. When possible, we inched down the freeway with other terrified motorists. Then as quickly as it had begun, we were beyond the wall of rain and wind. And agreed this had been one of the more terrifying times in our lives.
Sometimes all of us start thinking we are in charge! The reality is that we are in charge of very little. The earth heaves, volcanoes erupt, powerful weather sweeps across the land, floods take property and lives. Perhaps the weather's "purpose" to remind us to remain humble. Children's prayers for school closings and blizzards are just that - childhood beliefs that we leave behind.
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