I have the cell phone and the Kindle on their chargers as I write this because the Storm Prediction Center has issued warnings of severe thunder-storms for today. Here in the Wabash/Peru/Logansport area, we seem to be right on the edge between High and Moderate Risk for a tornado outbreak.
I have never been one to pay much heed to weather warnings. I take the most basic precautions – like making sure the phone and Kindle are charged and I have a working flashlight. That’s about it.
I’ve never gone to my basement because of a storm, even when the tornado alarms are going off. That’s because my basement is a dirty, yucky place filled with spiders (at least, I imagine spiders although I don’t think I’ve ever seen one). A more miserable place to wait out a storm, I can’t imagine. I’d rather take my chances up here, lying on the sofa, covered up with an afghan. If I end up in Oz, well, so be it.
I think I preferred the time when every weather event was a surprise. I can remember when farmers watched the sky, hoping to see portents of rain.
Now they watch The Weather Channel. I can remember when we saw the first snowflakes began to fall and had no clue whether they would amount to an inch or become a full-fledged snowstorm, piling up to a foot.
We used to go by weather proverbs and signals. We knew it was going to be a bad winter if hornets built their nests low, a mild winter if they built them high. The darker the caterpillars, the worse the winter.
Leaves falling early signaled an easy winter; if they fell late, it would be a hard one.