The Big One Arrives

Well, okay so much for my wishful weather forecast thinking. The BIG ice storm did, in fact, make it here, in fine fashion. Everything covered with an inch of ice. Winter wonderland, but war zone as well.

We went out walking early in the morning after the storm and all around us we saw and heard giant whole trees and giant limbs splitting and breaking and crashing down to the ground. We walked by one stretch of street and right behind us, I mean right behind us, a huge limb came crashing down onto the street, blocking car traffic for sure. The noise was weird and otherworldly. Power out to most of town for about 8 hours, live wires sparking and dancing in the ice.

Every weed, pine needle, fence wire, street sign had icycles hanging from it or was coated in ice. Yesterday the sun came out for a bit and the scene was dazzling!

Was thinking of my friend who owns an apple orchard and hoping the damage was not too great. Another friend, in his 70's, said he could only remember 2 or 3 storms this intense with ice. My folks remembered the big ice storm of the late 60's when we all had to huddle up in front of the fire place for a few days without power. I think that one was accompanied by a blizzard, too.

We spent the day after our walk sawing and dragging the giant limbs that came down, somehow missing the house by inches, into the street. Whew! We, along with most other residents here in this little Indiana town, have giant maple, oak, tulip trees in the yard that just couldn't handle the immense weight added by an inch of ice on their huge branches, more like small trees when you are standing next to one with a hand saw.

Felt a little sore today from our efforts, but there is something invigorating about being out like that, waiting to hear the splitting sound that means run like hell, the trees blowing and crackling with the ice.

Today, 0 degrees with 30+ mph winds, raining ice down like small frozen projectiles, the wind sounding like a train pulling into the station. I was thinking of the indigenous people who lived here, through ice storms, floods, blizzards, cozy in their homes made of logs, sitting by the fire and not worrying about when the power will come back on, or if the pipes will freeze, or getting to the store for a gallon of milk. Telling stories of their people, wrapped in the warm hides of the buffalo, just waiting out the weather and probably grateful for all the fire wood that the breaking trees are offering up.