Ice Storm

I love storms, preferably summer storms with plenty of warm humid wind, lightning and the attendant thunder, though I love winter storms too. One of the best things about this area is that we get our share of storms. Spectacular thunderstorms roll in on lazy summer afternoons and winter has its share of cold rainy days. There’s even the occasional snow storm every few years. This week we had my favorite kind of southern winter storm — an ice storm.

Snow storms get all the glory when it comes to winter storms. I didn’t even know what an ice storm was when I first came to town in 1999. That winter produced one of the biggest ice storms on record.

Ice storms turn the world to glass. You don’t want to drive in them if you can help it, even walking in treacherous, not just because the ground is slick, but because everything starts to collapse under the extra weight of frozen water.

When we moved in six years ago (yeah, long stopover) there were roughly double the number of trees in our neighborhood. Six years of storms, ice, wind, snow, have taken their toll on the aging water oaks that shade our street. Trees don’t go quietly, but like everything else, they do go. Usually it’s wind, though the weight of snow has been responsible for some of the biggest coming down.

As with nearly all things that have modicum of danger involved, ice storms are beautiful. This was a small storm, but it’s a amazing how such a small thing can utterly transform the ordinary into extraordinary. Even something you see everyday, like the sun rising out the back window, looks otherworldly when everything is coated in a thin layer of glittering ice.

And true to form, the water oaks continue to shed their branches. We spent the morning enjoying the ice and listening to tree limbs falling around the neighborhood. Trees never go quietly, but they do keep going.