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Attitude, books, Bread Isle, Cold, Conflict, Confusion, Family, fiction, Freezing, Ice, Jacket, Life, Mother Nature, Rain, short-story, snow, Snowflake, Spring, Thermostat, Winter, writing

I don’t know who offended Mother Nature, but at this point, I’m convinced somebody cut her off in traffic, stole her parking spot, and ate the last donut. Whatever it was, we are all paying for it.
She is currently having a full-blown emotional breakdown in the atmosphere.
Seven days ago, we were told a freeze watch might be issued. Then some warm Gulf air came rolling in and bullied the Arctic air back north like, “Ma’am, this is the South. You’re lost.” For a hot minute, it looked like we’d escaped.
But no. Of course not.
Now, the forecast says temperatures were supposed to start dropping Saturday night and continue their descent into single digits by Tuesday morning. Single digits. That’s not “a little chilly.” That’s “why do I live where the air hurts my face?”
But don’t put away your shorts yet, because Mother Nature is also predicting mid-40s next week. Awesome. A whole three days of false hope.
And now… now they’re saying snow is possible next weekend.
So let me get this straight. We’re doing spring, winter, fake spring, and winter: the sequel all in the same ten-day period?
Mother Nature is not controlling the climate — she’s playing roulette with it.
She really needs to get her act together and make up her mind. People in the South are not equipped for this kind of psychological warfare. We own exactly one coat. It’s decorative. It comes out for Christmas photos and emergency runs to Walmart when the bread aisle looks like it’s been looted.
Down here, extended cold doesn’t just affect the weather — it affects our entire economy. Milk and bread disappear. Churches cancel. Schools close if a snowflake thinks about falling. We start with dripping faucets, opening cabinets, wrapping pipes, and saying things like, “I’m just gonna let it run all night,” as if we’re on some kind of plumbing life support system.
So to whoever angered Mother Nature: own it. Apologize. Send her a fruit basket. Light a candle. Do something. Because the rest of us are out here wearing three layers, questioning our life choices, and checking the forecast like it owes us money.
Mother Nature, if you’re listening — pick a personality and stick with it.