with a capital "W"

There are two ways to describe the natural climatic shifts in this part of the world. There is "weather",  and then there is "Weather".

Even when simply spoken out loud, the difference between the two is clear. And the definition is pretty simple: if you can afford to not give it much thought, its "weather". If you are fairly sure that Mother Nature is trying to kill you, by any one of a number of gruesome and unpleasant means, it's most certainly "Weather". While Weather isn't limited to any one season (flash floods, tornados, straight-line winds, ice storms, hailstones the size of sporting equipment, heat that can bake your brain in your skull? Yep, we've got it ALL!), it often seems fiercest during the winter.

Yesterday, all four kids and I traveled to my grandmother's house in Iowa, for a long overdue visit. She is a treasure, my grandmother. Her sly, quiet sense of humor makes conversations fun. Her calm demeanor, honed, I'm sure, by the raising of seven children, and an active hand in the raising of a few dozen grandchildren, inspires my (possibly futile) attempts at cultivating patience.

It was a lovely visit. We had lunch at McDonalds. Not the most...elevated...choice of restaurant, but in Iowa, in January, with a three-year-old who has been cooped up in a car for several hours, somewhere with an indoor playground is your best bet. Sam was sweet and funny. Astrid was cute and wiggly, but sat on Great-Grandma's lap happily for quite some time. Bryn was her usual charming self. And Ian was a perfect gentleman; helpful, supportive, conversational.

We started home after dark. BJ called and warned me about snow back home, but all the forecasts had simply called for "some snow showers possible", so we weren't worried.

About one hundred miles in, we got worried. The wind was taking full advantage of it's uninterrupted path down from the arctic, whipping the snow into billowing white clouds. Sometimes I could see about 50 feet in front of me. Sometimes I couldn't see to the end of the hood of the car. The temperature had dropped below zero. It became clear that we were dealing with Weather. While I might be a native Californian, I am not an idiot, nor am I inexperienced in this. I've lived in the midwest for 20 years now (Oh my God. 20 years. Thats...horrifying). I learned to drive out here. We gutted it out through 30 miles of white-knuckle driving, Sam adding to the fun by screaming his fool head off at random intervals, before pulling off in a small town with a readily accessible hotel. A few uncomfortable hours trying to share two beds between four kids and one mom, and we woke to a crystal clear, bitterly cold morning, with near-perfect road conditions. We were back at our acreage by 7:15 am.

It's been still all day today. Thats always notable out here, where the wind is constant all year. It tends to make you feel like you are waiting for something. Like the world is holding its breath. This time, the feeling isn't wrong: there are predictions of -35 F windchills, and 5-8 inches of snow for tomorrow. The rabbits and birds have been notably absent. So far, they haven't canceled school, but Bryn's long-awaited Trivia Bowl has been postponed. We joined the throngs at the grocery store, filled the car with gas, and hauled load after load of firewood up onto the rack on the front porch. Tomorrow is BJ's day off, so it seems wisest to take the example of the rabbits and birds. Hunker down in your dens. Weather, with a capital "W", is on the way.