Aunt Norie’s Sewing Room
I was all cozy and warm in my snug little apartment awaiting the monster blizzard our weather forecasters were predicting. It sure came in right on target.
For now, I have that little, “snug as a bug in a rug” feeling. However, when it lasts as long as forecasters predict, that feeling can turn into “that chicken in a coop” feeling.
Out my window I’ve seen the mail carrier, the trash pick up and the UPS delivery, all go by. All in a matter of just a few minuets. God bless all of those whose job it is to be out in any, and all, of the bad weather, be it snow, rain, searing heat, etc.
We “old timers” maybe appreciate our weather people perhaps more than most of you. We were farmers. We had to be always ready for whatever might come over the horizon at any moment. Winters were longer and more harsh. Our winters would spawn three or four blowing, drifting, freezing blizzards, always in December and even through March.
Agnes Kissenger grew up in western Kansas, where the winter wind never stopped. She one time told us about a day she never forgot. She, the oldest of four, had walked (I think she said) about a mile and a half to the little country school, when big fat snowflakes began falling. Their teacher sent them all home.
She was a new teacher, and chose to disregard the old rule. They tried to tell her: If bad weather moves in, keep the kids at school. “She told us to go straight home, you’ll make it.” The snow soon came in so thick you couldn’t see through it. They tucked themselves into a shock of fodder (corn stalks). Before long they heard their dad yelling, singing, whistling. He had, of course, come after them. He knew they had to be hiding somewhere between home and the schoolhouse.
They busted out of there and ran to get in dad’s wagon. He had hitched up the team and came for them. “Oh yes, the teacher heard about it,” she said. “She was so sorry, of course. A day I never forgot.”
A big, big, thank you to all of you out there working in this kind of weather.
Love you and God bless.
— Aunt Norie, P.O. Box 265, Tonganoxie 66086; email@example.com.