Arriving home after about 8 months of traveling is an event we start counting down to around the beginning of September. Of course, once you start counting the weeks and then the days, each hour passes at a ridiculous agonizing pace. By the second week of October I can see the "finish line" at my front gate in my head.
Every year, I park the trailer in roughly the same spot in the pasture. It gets enough shade from the giant tree Georgia likes to climb from time to time, yet is far enough away that the branches won't brush against the skin if heavy winds pick up. This winter, it wasn't just heavy winds, or even heavy rains that threatened us. It was an ice storm that came in the middle of December that sent everyone in a survival mode of sorts.
There was the memorable ice storm of 2000 that the Paris locals still talk about from time to time. That was before we settled our winters in Texas. Every winter from 2003 on has presented the occasional snow fall, light ice, some rains, winds and I can expect certain parts of my drive way to be too muddy to park on. (Fourteen loads of gravel later, I can now park my truck anywhere and everywhere in the driveway without fear getting buried to the axles.)
The 2013 ice storm was apparently on par with the storm that invaded Paris and surrounding communities years before. In any case many residents, myself included were left with no choice but to find a warm place elsewhere. Thanks to the unfailing generosity of friends in Hugo, we were made more than comfortable at the Brown home. We ate good, laughed hard and stayed up a little too late once or twice. I tended to my errands, chores and dogs and drove Georgia to school the days classes were in session. The time I spent at home during the day clearing what fallen branches that were manageable gave me a little work out. Some branches were coated so thick with ice, they sat in my yard and driveway for days till the ice was gone. With little to no signs of ice, I could drag them to the thickly wooded acreage at the back of the pasture. I often heard what sounded like gun shots echoing all over the countryside. While it's not the least bit unusual to hear target practice where I live amidst hunters, these cracks and pops weren't bullets or pellets, but the sound of branches being weighed down so heavily by the layers of ice that had accumulated so quickly. Some fell hard and fast and threatened the occasional passing car. Other branches fell in an almost creepy slow motion eventually succumbing to the weight of that white ice. But, still we were very thankful despite the overcast skies and the ice coated everything. Not everyone had a warm welcoming place with friends who are more like family like we did. The five days in Hugo were fun and reminded me that the value of friendship is something you can't put a price on.
Our church's living nativity was cancelled because of the ice storm. Atwoods, TCS and Wal-Mart ran out of those little green propane tanks. McQueen's propane was hopping while other stores were rushed upon by folks stocking up on water, gasoline (for generators) and propane. Some parts of Paris were a bit frenzied while other neighborhoods were left with empty houses, unlit street lamps and felt a little hollow.
The ice storm lasted about a week, and there were more cold days than not all winter long which made the off time creep by slowly. The icy wet weather isn't kind to my back or joints. While we are currently getting pelted with the sporadic rain storm here in the Midwest, I'm not sore and the time is moving right along.
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