Monday, January 23, 2006, 21:05
The Backwards Weather Forecast. . .
The weather forecaster on one of the Twin Cities television stations must have gotten up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.
"The day will start out cold," he said.
(Which it did, because this morning the temperature was 4 degrees above zero.)
"But by this afternoon," the forecaster continued, "the temperature will warm up to 30 degrees. A strong southwest wind, however, will make it feel much, much warmer than 30 degrees. It will feel like it is 20 degrees."
Huh?
It took me a while to figure out that he meant to say "colder" rather than "warmer."
Unfortunately, television stations record their weather forecasts first thing in the morning and then play the same tape over and over. By the time I went out to feed the horses, I had heard it about a half dozen times that the southwest wind was going to make it feel warmer than 30 degrees -- would, in fact, make it feel like all of 20 degrees.
Not that I am faulting the poor man. I have done that, too -- said one thing when I meant the complete opposite. It's just that for him, once it was taped this morning, the rest of us had to listen to it a bunch of times.
Still, I figured that the information about the strong southwest wind would be useful. All the while that I was measuring horse feed and putting on my coat and hat and mittens, I was thinking about where I should put hay for Kajun and Isabelle. When it is cold and windy in the winter, I try put their hay on the other side of some sort of windbreak so they don't have to stand in the cold wind to eat.
You can imagine my surprise when I walked around the corner of the house, headed for the barn, and realized we did not have a south-WEST wind today.
It is a south-EAST wind.
Once I figured out the wind was out of the southeast rather than the southwest, I had to change my thinking about where to put the horse hay. . .
For the majority of people, the weather forecast is not of much importance beyond knowing whether to carry an umbrella or whether to put on a heavier coat or a different pair of boots.
For those of us who live on farms or who live in the country and whose existence is tied to the weather and the seasons in some way, a weather forecast is a guide that tells us what to expect so we will know what work we can or cannot do.
As for me, whenever I am outside today and the raw southeast wind is trying its best to peel the skin off my face, I am going to be thinking about how the wind is making it feel much "warmer" than it what it actually is.
After all, perhaps it's a matter of seeing the glass half full, rather than half empty, and if I think of the wind as making it feel warmer, then maybe I won't notice it as much.
LeAnn R. Ralph
Sunday, January 22, 2006, 21:48
By the Grace of God
If I had driven out past the farm where I grew up on my way to my niece's Pampered Chef open house Saturday afternoon -- instead of driving out the other way -- there is a strong possibility that I would be on a slab in the morgue right now.
I drove out the other way because of the hill between us and the farm (the hill where I rode my pony, Dusty, in "Give Me a Home Where the Dairy Cows Roam" on my way to help Dad bale hay when I was a kid). The hill is shaded with trees on both sides of the road, and it is slick with snow and ice at this time of year. Driving out the other way is an easier route.
On my way toward town, my husband and his friend, the "other Randy" (Randy V) -- the one who owns a machine shop -- were stopped in Randy V's truck at a stop sign on a county highway that intersects with the road on which I was driving. They pulled out right behind me. This becomes important later on in the story.
I was almost to town, at the turn in the road at the top of the old quarry where the highway descends toward the river, where, but for the grace of God, I would have been in a head-on collision.
Another woman, driving a white PT Cruiser, and yakking on a cell phone at the same time, swung wide on the turn. So wide that all four of her tires were in my lane.
If I had arrived at the corner 10 seconds earlier -- if I had driven out past the farm -- if I had driven faster on my way to town -- I would have been right at the corner when she drove into my lane.
The woman suddenly realized she was about to crash head-on into my vehicle and swung the wheel hard to the right. She kept on going, though, and the last I saw of her, she was headed over the hill behind me.
I drove the rest of the 40 miles to my niece's house without further incident, and when I arrived, I told them that I was fortunate to be there at all.
My big brother felt compelled right then and there to say a prayer, thankful that I had not been in a head-on collision. (Amen to that!)
By the time I arrived home again, it was nearly 8 p.m. I only drove between 45 and 50 mph most of the way along the twisting and winding country roads after three deer jumped out in front of me not far my niece's. I figured if the deer were moving, I ought to drive a little more slowly.
When I got home, I asked Randy if he had seen the white PT Cruiser, seeing as Randy and Randy V were such a short distance behind me.
"No," Randy said. "I didn't see it."
I explained what had happened.
"What a minute! I did see the white PT Cruiser!" he said. "It was on the other corner by Higbie's. I noticed it because it was a woman going really slow around the corner. And she was talking on a cell phone."
"That was the one," I said. "You can't mean to tell me she was still talking? If that had been me, I think I would have hung up immediately."
The corner where Randy saw the white PT Cruiser is maybe a half mile from the first corner where it almost ran into me.
I know that cell phones are an important invention. And I know that they have their uses. In emergencies, for example.
My husband keeps trying to talk me into getting a cell phone.
I do not want a cell phone.
In the first place, I am not that important that I need to be reached no matter where I am.
In the second place, I do not want to be reached wherever I am.
I hope the woman driving the PT Cruiser decides to never again talk on her cell phone again while she is behind the wheel.
I hope the near-miss was enough to make her more attentive to her driving.
But if neither of those two things take place -- I hope she is lucky enough to avoid another accident -- next time.
As for the Pampered Chef open house, I ordered a paring knife -- one that comes with its own sharpener.
Of course, a sharp paring knife might be the last thing I need. If I have a sharp knife at my disposal, the probability of accidentally cutting myself will most likely double. It's happened before. . .
Have you ever had a "close call?" Click on the comments link below to share your story about any close calls that made you think of the "what-ifs."
LeAnn R. Ralph
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