Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: MONDAY, March 22, 1993 TAG: 9303220398
SECTION: EDITORIAL PAGE: A-5 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: MONTY S. LEITCH
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
CONFUSED CROWS
DO YOU REMEMBER where you were this time last week? What you were doing?Of course, you do, because wherever you were, whatever you were doing, it was weather-related.
So . . . how much snow did you get at your place?
A blizzard in Virginia? Well, not so long ago we had a hurricane here, too, if you'll remember. Several hundred miles inland, where hurricanes ought never to come.
I would have liked to have seen how the snow draped and camouflaged the mass of trees that Hugo laid down in our woods, but I couldn't get back there. It's hard to walk in thigh-deep snow; too hard for me at that distance.
How deep was the snow at my house? Even crows visited my bird feeder in the first days after the storm. Mine is a relatively new bird feeder and not too many birds have found it yet. A cardinal pair, blue jays of course, juncoes, chickadees, and a couple of types of sparrows.
And now crows.
Well, who needs to feed crows? I must admit, I pecked on the window when they arrived. There were, after all, plenty of hilltops in our neighborhood swept completely clean of snow. (All the snow from one windswept hilltop settled into our driveway.) More odd than crows at the bird feeder was the sight of bald ground surrounded by snow.
For me, weather's oddest characteristic is its insubstantiality. "Who can touch the wind?" and all that.
Oh, sure, you can touch the snow when it's right out there in your yard. But I know that on sunny days I've watched reports of blizzards elsewhere and not been able quite to believe in them: How could there be a blizzard? It's a beautiful day.
Last week, I could scarcely believe that there was any place in the world not wrapped in 20 inches of snow; any place in the world where driveways were still open and roads still passable once you'd left your drive.
Nevertheless, we do believe in the weather, don't we? People who'd never admit the existence of souls will solemnly talk of invisible lows, highs, approaching fronts, and winds. When it comes to weather, we enthusiastically deal with things visible and invisible.
Piles of snow will be visible around here for weeks, maybe for months. But there will be daffodils, too, and will we believe then, really believe, in our disappeared blizzard?
Of course, we'll remember it. We'll talk about it for years. But what will we feel about it? What will we believe? Especially when our stories are met, as they certainly will be, with disbelief? "Oh, Granmaw," children will say, "you're making that up."
Maybe we will be, too.
Monty S. Leitch is a Roanoke Times & World-News columnist.