Well, I'd be batting a zero since there was no Thanksgiving Day snow in Westside Eagle Observer country though it was pretty, as well as wet and dangerous in much of the nation. It's nice to be able to drive to Grandma's house for Thanksgiving on just wet roads, isn't it? Even the splatters from semis and other vehicles are better than those unexpected black ice spots. So thanks for the thanks; I was wrong again. Betting at least a -110% on predictions is quite an accomplishment.
There, I got that out of the way, so let's get on to this week's 'cuff. Much of what follows was written several days ago (today is the day after Thanksgiving) and is a result of trying to break my put-off-till-the-last-minute writing these simple sentences. So here they are -- procrastinating, get behind me. Perhaps they will make more sense (no comment, please).
Today, Nov. 21, I just finished reading that last 'cuff of Nov. 20 which included a correction of the date of the coldest temperature in the state of Arkansas: Feb. 13, 2005, is correct. And daggum it, I noticed a couple of errors I made on this little Smith-Corona. No confession required, but I'm making a decision to write bits between 'cuffs. My mind is a total blank (no comment, please). I just pulled myself out of a chair to look out over the backyard where leaves are beginning to pile up. The lawnmower died; hopefully, it's just on vacation until spring.
What really hits me between the eyes is a cloud I see raining from heaven -- huge flakes swirling toward the ground, some even landing on the deck. The thought process scrambles for reality ... no, it isn't snowflakes nor is it snow on the brain; it is a huge swirl of leaves settling on the ground, ready for raking on another day. Important? No, what is really important is the question, Why are the leaves on some trees so slow to fall, particularly from those Bradford pears that are so covered with flowering snow each spring? This fall they are hanging on to those leaves and, instead of being colorful, they are now covered with a complete dress of brownish-black. I thought we had a killing frost several weeks ago, undressing those and several other tree species.
Let's jump ahead another couple of days which are dreadfully foggy, misty ... about the dreariest days ever seen. So now it's time to put out that reminder again, that statement I often promise never to repeat, "Lights on when wipers on." How many cars and trucks, particularly pickups, had no lights on during our meeting on trips in and out of town? Please, folks, is it such a hard task to flip that little switch? Intersections, particularly crossing highways, can be a dark spot, and a little less pressure on the gas pedal might be a plus.
Jump ahead just one more day, to Nov. 23. Surprise of surprises, there it is, glistening white on the rooftops, on the car windshield and even some on those piles of leaves: SNOW. What is this? Snow isn't supposed to happen until Thanksgiving Day. Does Mom Nature have all her schedules in order? A half-an-inch of that heavy, wet, yet fluffy white stuff is making, has made, it's appearance -- more snow than has fallen on the lawn at the NOAA weather station (I like to use that big word for the little specially made building where the thermometers do their job), more snow than has fallen here during the past four winters.
Well, maybe last winter saw a slim inch. Today's snow wasn't here at five in the morning but when I went out to pick up that good, well-appreciated paper, the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette, there it was -- heavy, wet (not the paper, it was bagged), just itching to be made into snowballs. A good hardball was formed and went into the freezer -- just for proof if needed.
Fast forward to today, the day after Thanksgiving. During the past few days, the Brad pears have shed their garments, a very strong wind the night before turkey day demolished several piles of leaves and scattered them along fence rows. Bad news: rain packed them heavily and it's going to be fun if it ever dries off enough to attach them. Yea, what fun. Hopefully, 'cuffers (yep, that's you, all of us) have not experienced any disappointing accumulation of what was supposed to be a huge pile for the great-grands to enjoy on Thanksgiving Day. Nope. More rain. But their fun decorating the Christmas tree and hearing and watching them run through the rooms, not breaking a thing, playing music on the piano that would astound Beethoven -- it makes the old grands forget about rainy, misty days. I hope each of you who reads this trivial 'cuff had a pleasant, enjoyable and thankful Thanksgiving.
One more little tidbit: The lights went out in Gravette Wednesday morning on the day before Thanksgiving. Liberty Electric Company personnel and trucks converged on the power substation located in the heart of Gravette. Computers went flat, gas pumps got stubborn, electric ovens balked in many homes where pumpkin and pecan pies were probably already in their shells. Since many closets were dark, choosing matching garments probably, possibly, produced some strange mixes, and more beards could have been started since electric razors stopped whirring -- and more and more and more. Some wild turkey traveling through town must have convinced a squirrel to do a real job, much worse than usually happens when a little fluffy feller decides to do whatever.
It just formulated in my brain: Mom Nature recognized the community Thanksgiving dinner was served that Saturday the snow appeared for a few minutes. Whew! Maybe the guess was only half wrong. Such a little leeway must be worth something.
I hope everybody survived Black Friday and has settled in for observing Advent. After all, isn't it true that every child is challenged to emulate the one whose birth is being celebrated? Such is our challenge.
Dodie Evans is the former owner and long-time editor of the Gravette News Herald. Opinions expressed are those of the author.
Editorial on 12/04/2019