The wags at the barbershop called it snow-mageddon. Forecasters have been talking about the big winter storm. For the past week, people have been planning to spend a couple of days inside.
As a preemptive strike against cabin fever, we went to the Yellow River before the storm. We had to wait until noon Thursday for the temperature to rise above freezing, but the skies were clear. We walked to the shoals below the bend where the river turns east, a hike of 3.5 miles. Songbirds and squirrels were foraging. My grandfather was among those who believe that the creatures of the woods know when hard weather is coming and “lay by in store.”
The woods were quiet — except for a screaming hawk we never saw. The forest is browner than the landscape in town. Fewer native plants are green now; the green of the gardens that Georgians tend comes mostly from species from other parts of the world. Aside from the pines, most of the green you see along the river comes from mountain laurel, greenbrier, holly and ferns.
The forecasters were right. Just after 6:30 a.m., the snow started falling.
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