Faced with prognostications
At this time of year, a big “twenty-five cent” word takes control; prognostication. Wherein we try to guess which weather forecast is accurate enough to control our routine. This is winter, and there will be storms. Right now, “the known world” (from my doorstep, is watching the approach of something big enough to rattle the windows. We’re still several days out, but the models are available. Be it the weather guy on CBC, or the weather guy on Facebook, we’re getting an overview and interpretation of the possibilities. Not the probabilities; a distinction must be made.
The worst warning points to one hundred centimeters of blowing snow, followed by freezing rain. Think about it. We could be “storm-stayed”. Forced to drink water and make bread. The generator will take on the world.
At the other end of the scale, a complete miss. Nothing to see here, folks. But we secretly hope for adventure. I should start stocking up on storm chips, tomorrow. I won’t, but I should. The dog has kibble, and I’ve got granola. What could go wrong?
Meanwhile, south of here, they could be hit with Snowmageddon! You see how easily these tings upscale. I guess if you don’t own a shovel, and your local council doesn’t plow, getting a few centimeters would be inconvenient. And if they get hit with one hundred centimeters, the army will be pulled in to defend the infrastructure. Right?
Even better, we’re still only in January. Between now and beach weather, lots of time to strap on the snowshoes and pretend that I’m a pioneer, discovering the land.
