The Big Red Prognosticator

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Most people think that prognosticators are the stuff of folklore. You know, dark woolly bear caterpillars predict a long winter, Punxsutawney Phil and his hit and miss predictions of spring, etc.

Well, unlike those quaint harbingers, we have a very accurate weather predictor living right here at Gracerock. His name is Obie and his gift is the ability to predict thunderstorms. Yes, that's right - a thunderstorm can be twenty or more miles away, but Obie knows it's a comin'. Because of his long and lanky tongue, his mastery of spoken language is a bit rough. Fortunately, he has other means of communication. When a storm is on the way, he'll first notify us by dancing around and turning in counter-clockwise circles. This is to indicate the counter-clockwise wind direction usually associated with thunderstorms. Then he'll crawl onto your lap (regardless of your actual position - standing, sitting, flat on your back). This is to demonstrate his willingness to hold you down in the face of strong approaching winds. Thus far, it has worked quite well. Neither Sharon nor I have been blown away by a thunderstorm while Obie has been on the job.

The good news is that his senses never sleep. Day or night, Obie is on duty - ready to alert us at the first sign of an approaching storm. Just think of the lives that could have been saved, had Obie lived in earlier times - you know, before the days of Doppler radar and satellite surveillance. Lives at sea, those living in coastal areas - humanity by the thousands would have survived if only they had Obie to guide them thru the dangers of weather. I know that I sleep much better at night knowing Obie is on watch. That is, I sleep better until a storm approaches. At which time no one sleeps until the storm has passed.


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Wait just a doggone minute

I think SOMEONE jumped the gun here. Yes, I'm now closer to sixty than thirty - but geez, it's not time for these folks to be sending me mail.

Dangerous slush

So it was a beautiful day one day in the middle of last week. Temps into the mid 40s, birds were out in droves and the snow did a lot of melting. Then the thermometer took a dive and the slush became solid ice. A bit of freezing rain on top and then a bit of non-freezing rain yields a slightly bumpy but oh, so slippery driveway that even Obie (with four-paw drive) has trouble negotiating.

Funny thing was, on that beautiful day, I heard neighbor Scott down the road running his skid loader. Wondered why he was plowing his driveway on such a beautiful day. Didn't he know it was all melting? Of course, as it turns out, it wasn't what Scott didn't know, but rather what I didn't know. So there we have it, another lesson added to the ranks of "the hard way" is that, when the snow becomes two inches of slush, take time to plow it away.