Well, what’s next?

Okay, we’ve made it through another winter mess. As I write this, we’re in the middle of some much warmer weather. And while I’m not about to complain, I’m not exactly doing cartwheels (mentally, of course; no way I could physically anyway), either. I can’t help but wonder what’s next.

Last week wasn’t any fun for anyone, not even kids, because there wasn’t snow, only ice. Alice had a doctor’s appointment in Jonesboro that we had to cancel because of the roads. A lot of things were getting cancelled or postponed all over the place.

And yet, even after the sleet and freezing rain, some plants continue to seem unaware of what time of year it is. As I left for church Sunday, I noticed that our crazy forsythia (as reported last week) is still trying to bloom, after all the ice and freezing weather. And so after church I went and checked, and, yep. Even in our back yard, there are still some daffodils, raising their brave (or goofy) little heads.

So what’s going on now? There are actually several ways we can look at this. Is God giving us some respite from the cold, wet weather? Is Mother Nature continuing to toy with us out of meanness? Is it climate change, brought on by the internal combustion engine? Is it a sneaky type of warfare, brought on by that Chinese spy balloon? Will the History Channel claim it’s all caused by aliens? No matter what one’s beliefs, one can’t be angry, walking out into warmer weather without ice to slip on.

Still, though, no one should be foolish enough to think that winter is over. This may be the South, or to some the MidSouth, but it is also early February, a time when things could get nasty all over again.

Shucks, the worst, or at least strangest, winter storm I remember ever being in happened in May, as I recall. Of course, I admit it wasn’t in Arkansas. I was stationed at Lowry Air Force Base, near Denver, Colo. It started as rain, then turned into icy rain, and then started blowing horizontally, and then became all ice, and then it snowed. And snowed. A couple of feet.

Then the sun came out and the snow started melting. From the top. This was May, remember. That caused minor flooding with no drainage, because the water had no place to go. We had to go out with shovels and hoes, find the storm drains, dig holes in the snow so the water could find the storm drains, and then break numerous little dams so the water could run off to those drains.

I’ve never had to do that here, though I have had to go days and nights without power, more than once. And I feel like most of us lucked out this time. Just a little more ice, and we would have been in a worse pickle than a bunch of snow melting from the top down.

And yes, the first day the sun came out last week, everything was beautiful. It was like all the trees were made of glass. Of course, if you stood under a tree you might get konked in the head, but from a distance the trees were pretty.

From that, we come to this. I’m writing this on Sunday afternoon, with blue skies and sunshine outside, making plans to grill out on Monday.

Yes, I intend to grill. Even though I wonder about what might happen as February continues, I will not hesitate to take advantage of this little balmy spell. It may be all too short. I hope the weather forecast for Monday holds up. We’ll know by the time this is read.

The warmer weather also means work. Although I had already cleared out the fallen limbs (more than once) from our yard, there is a fresh crop, especially in the back. They are within sight of the optimistic little daffodils, as if to remind me that even spring-like weather and flowers can mean their own set of chores.

Of course, I can’t help but wonder what kind of summer we’re in for. Frankly, I don’t go in much for long-term predictions. Trends may be possible to predict, but no one right now can tell me what the weather will be like on my birthday in August. Or when the next hurricane will hit Florida. Or how many tornadoes there will be in a given month, or day, or where they’ll take place.

I pay about as much attention to longrange forecasts as I do to Groundhog Day. And to tell the truth, I like the movie a lot more than I like Punxsutawney Phil’s actual predictions. Six more weeks? Does anyone really keep track of this stuff? Oh, well.

Anyway, here we are, and it’s February, and with luck we won’t be snowed in on Valentine’s Day.

(EDITOR’S NOTE: David Nichol is a freelance writer who retired from the Times-Herald. He can be contacted at nicholdb@cablelynx.com.)