I have a somewhat guilty admission, and it’s this; my television habits are a bit out there. Unlike friends of mine who are wrapped up in some weekly medical or crime drama as they wait for their much needed fix from some show or another, I can be found perched in front of the weather channel until the tea on my lap either grows cold or the mug itself is emptied. And it doesn’t matter what area’s weather I’m seeing, either. I know folks from Victoria, B.C. (British Columbia) to Victoria, B.C. (Behind Carbonear) so somehow, what’s happening somewhere in this country of ours matters.
Eddie’s the Man
It’s not that I don’t get my fix from NTV, mind you. Eddie’s the man when it comes to knowing if I’ll get my lunch time walk around the lake in each day that week or how bad a storm will be, it’s just that, in my quiet time, I have needs. Like an itch that’s just been scratched, I’m often left wanting more.
I haven’t always been this way, however, and I think I know what changed to make the weather channel my any hour of the day or night sofa lounging companion; I left the bay.
When you live in an outport, weather is everything and it doesn’t matter the time of year, either. Spring brings fog, which means your isolated community just got a whole lot more isolated when risking life and limb keeps you from heading up over winding, often moose-filled roads. Winds that can cut you in half will not only ground boats, but it will send even non-sinners to their knees praying the roof of the salt box stays on – for just another year. Then there’s rain that can wash out roads leaving you stuck at your in-laws for a week, grounddrifts that can make you think the highway’s existence was but an ol’ wives’ tale and black ice that can have you leavin’ your drawers in a ditch. Yes, it can be that bad.
So, you quickly learn to rely on the experts before planning anything, and most of those can be found at the post office or at the local shop. You trust poppy’s hip; snow’s coming. You quickly rely on ol’ skipper’s knee; fog movin’ in. And, let’s not forget nanny’s hair that’s in ‘the fits’; rain’s comin’. All grand, always-to-be-trusted outport weather warnings.
Don’t laugh. It’s not like such things are out there by any means. Sure the world, since I’ve known it, has looked to a damn groundhog to know when to put the winter coat away. I’ll trust a creakin’ hip over a rodent any day.
And the Farmers’ Almanac is something else folks turn to. While some may say using the Farmers’ Almanac for a seasonal outlook is about as good as going to a psychic, others swear by it.
This year the warnings are for “teeth-chattering” cold and “hold onto your wool caps: we may be in for a brutal winter” warnings. Oh, so winter’s coming, basically.
So, how will I brace myself? As any good outport girl should; warmed and comforted by the knowledge that I’m somewhat mentally prepared for the worst winter has to offer. Bring it on, baby! I’ll pack extra drawers in the hatchback. Just in case.