When the Polar Vortex Hit Alberta - By Barbara Baker

Day 1 - My thermometer reads minus 37 Celsius. I can’t complain though. Global News warned us for a week that a Polar Vortex was about to hit Alberta. Initially, I doubted them, but they were pretty insistent, so yesterday I did a grocery run just in case they got it right this time.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t hate winter. In fact one of the aspects I enjoy is being able to put on layers of clothing to stay warm, whereas in summer, if it gets too hot there are only so many layers I can take off before it gets offensive to those around me.

In the afternoon I watch Bruce Springsteen, Neil Diamond and Johnny Reid music videos while I get 10,000 steps on the elliptical. The evening news stresses the dangers of frostbite, lists the closed ski resorts and posts a city map of all the warming shelters set up for both people and pets.

Day 2 - I marvel at the accuracy of the forecast. Highs of minus 33. After regular tasks are done, I organize miscellaneous drawers. Glancing out the living room window where chickadees and nuthatches take turns at the feeder, I wonder when and how we managed to accumulate this much clutter.

I add Meatloaf’s “Bat Out of Hell” and “Hot Summer Night” to my music videos and do a cardio workout in the basement.

Friends vacationing or living in warmer places send pictures of large iguanas, green grass and sandy beach sunsets. I reply with frozen emojis.

Day 3 – The afternoon high will get to minus 31.  I check the tidy drawers before I tackle a day of housecleaning. I want to be ready for the ski hills when they reopen. Because of active cleaning I only need 4,650 steps on the elliptical. I add Jelly Roll’s “Save Me” to my music videos.

Day 4 – It’s minus 34. I need to get out of the house. And we’re out of coffee. Since the store is only eight blocks away, I dress in my warmest gear – snow pants, thick scarf, down mitts, long parka, fuzzy toque, unattractive winter boots and goggles. I put my wallet on the chair and turn to take a quick check in the mirror. No exposed skin. Perfect.

I take off on my coffee run.

When I step outside, even with the scarf over my mouth and nose, I gasp and hunch my shoulders forward against the brisk breeze. My goggles fog up instantly forcing me to exhale into my collar.

Snow squeaks with each step. Crosswalks glazed with white ice require penguin-style walking. There is no one on the street or sidewalk. When I crest the hill, the wind increases. I scrape frost off my goggles as tires screech to a stop next to me. 

“Do you need a ride?” someone shouts.

“No, I’m good,” I holler back.

“It’s really cold,” they caution me.

I wave them on. What a friendly soul and possibly a rocket scientist.

Almost there.

The automatic door screeches open slowly. Once inside, I shake hard to let warm air circulate through to my skin. There is no coffee on sale so I grab the cheapest box.

At the till the clerk scans it as I search for my wallet. So many layers. So many pockets. None of which hide my wallet. I stare at the clerk like maybe she knows where I put it. She smiles and waits. I search again and pull out my phone.

“I’m sorry. I forgot my wallet.” I look at my phone and back to her. “Can I pay with an e-transfer?”

She shakes her head. “You can tap it with a credit or debit card.”

“Yeah, I don’t have that set-up.”

She puts the box of coffee on the shelf behind her and I head back outside. How could I forget my wallet? On the way home, I stay warm by chastising myself for being forgetful. I blame it on aging. Oh well. It was a gallant effort on my part, and I got aired. Maybe I can drink tea. No. That will never happen.

The house door squeals when I open it. And there sits my wallet. Right where I left it - on the chair by the mirror.

“I found coffee and toilet paper in the basement in our tornado-COVID stash,” my husband calls out. “It’s past the best-before-date.”

“How far past?” I hang up all my layers.

“January 2020. Google says it might taste a bit weaker, but it shouldn’t kill us.”

“Good to know.”

How sweet is he that he knows I’m anal about expiry dates? A healthy helping of expired alfalfa sprouts did it to me forty-five years ago.

Day 5 – Google was right. We didn’t die from the expired coffee and the news promises the Arctic Vortex will pass in a few days. Ski hills are still on standby or closed.

A brisk walk outside and then more time on the elliptical. I add “The Sound of Silence” by Disturbed to my music collection. Totally stepping out of my comfort zone, but damn he does an amazing job with the song.

I pull out a puzzle from Christmas and we assemble the border. I organize the pieces into colour trays. 500 pieces. Wow. The cold snap can’t end soon enough.

Alberta Alert announces rotating power outages. We bring in firewood and find flashlights.

Relatives in Germany message to see if we are okay.

Day 6 – A repeat of Day 5 with minimal puzzle progress.

Day 7 – I wake up to a balmy minus 15. Hallelujah. There is now a snowfall warning in our forecast. I put the puzzle away for the next cold snap and pull our ski bag closer to the door.

Take that Polar Vortex.

See you next time.

 

You can contact me at: bbaker.write@gmail.com

Summer of Lies: Baker, Barbara:9780228615774: Books - Amazon.ca

What About Me?: Sequel to Summer of Lies : Baker, Barbara: Amazon.ca: Books

 

 

 

Writing About the Weather in Fiction by Connie Vines

Writing about the weather in your novel, and writing about it well, is critical for an atmospheric story.

It’s also a great shortcut…

A simple description of storm clouds gathering on the horizon, say, can foreshadow troubled times ahead in the plot, or act as a symbol for the character’s mood. And it can do it in a short space.

It’s easy to forget just how important a part of our everyday lives the weather is.

We think about it so much that we’re rarely conscious of thinking about it at all. But it affects everything.

·         Our mood.

·         Our health.

·         Sometimes even our survival.

Ignoring the weather in the stories we tell just isn’t an option.

In the real world, we chat about the weather even when there’s nothing much to say. Which is fine – small-talk helps to oil the cogs of society. But having two characters in a novel talk about unremarkable weather, or having the narrator describe a perfectly ordinary rain shower, say, can send the reader straight to sleep.

Another problem with writing about the weather is that it’s easy to resort to cliches.

·         The rain lashed down on the rooftops.

·         The heat rose off the tarmac in shimmering waves.

·         The wind made the tree branches dance.

Good descriptive writing should be fresh, original, memorable – even unexpected. But because we talk about the weather all the time (and read so much about it in fiction, too), finding unique and exciting ways to describe thunderstorms or blizzards or perfect summer days can be tough.

WHY WEATHER IS IMPORTANT IN A NOVEL

Here are four reasons why weather matters in fiction.

1. It’s Part of the Setting

Not only that, it’s a crucial part of the setting, particularly when the weather shifts from being ordinary to extreme.

Imagine two characters in a novel, a husband and a wife, driving along a deserted highway. They’re fighting about whose fault it is that they’re lost. Outside, it is…

·         Freezing. Everywhere is white with snow and it’s tough keeping the car on the road.

·         Scorching. It’s the hottest August day on record… and the air conditioning is on the blink.

·         Stormy up ahead. And they’re driving right into it!

·         Foggy. They can barely see the road in front of them.

Each of these conditions would give the scene a totally different feel. But even when the weather is not especially remarkable – a warm summer’s evening, a cold and bright morning in autumn – it still gives scenes very different moods and atmospheres.

But if you don’t mention the weather at all in your writing, not even briefly, an important element will be missing from the mental image in the reader’s mind.

2. It Affects Character

Just as the weather affects our mood in the real world, so it affects the mood of a character in a novel.

·         If a character is feeling blue, a cold and wet day will form the perfect backdrop.

·         If the sun comes out, it’s a sign that their spirits are rising.

The viewpoint character’s mood complements or contrast with the weather outside is just another small way to add dimension to your fiction.

3. It Affects Plot

Even the most ordinary weather can affect the plans of people in the real world and, also, characters in novels.

·         Rain can spoil a wedding.

·         Fog can disrupt travel plans.

·         Drought can play havoc with a prized garden.

Make the elements more extreme and you ramp up the stakes. Writing about extreme weather can be a primary source of conflict in a novel.

4. Weather Is Symbolic

I mentioned earlier that weather can affect a character’s mood. Taking this one step further, you can have it actually symbolize how a character is feeling inside.

Suppose a mother is worried that her young son is late back home. As she stands by the window waiting for him to return, she notices the wind picking up. At this point, she is merely concerned.

One hour later, though, the garden furniture is cartwheeling across the lawn… and by implication, the woman is really starting to panic. The writer doesn’t even need to describe her panic. The scene outside tells the readers everything they need to know about how the woman is feeling inside.

5. Don’t Ignore It

If you can, mention it in every scene. Even if the weather isn’t that important to a scene, still write about it, however briefly.

When Mary left for work the next morning, it was still raining.

It was colder than Frank had expected when he stepped out of the house.

The snow started right after lunch.

There are no fancy descriptions here – no adjectives, no metaphors.

·         It’s raining.

·         It’s cold.

·         It’s snowing.

The reader can then take their experience of rain, say, and use it to imagine a rainy scene.

6. Show, Don’t Tell

When Mary left for work the next morning, the sky was as dark as slate and the icy north wind was blowing the rain straight into her face.

The entire sky was white with snow.

The sound of a dog pawing at the back door waiting to be let inside.

Use the best details you can imagine. Engage all of the senses (how the weather sounds and smells and tastes).

From my historical novel, “Tanayia—Whisper upon the Water

The wind began to blow, hot and restless.  It drowned out the sound of my fists pounding against the door.  It drowned out my cries for help.  I felt clammy, yet the heat of the day was trapped inside the attic.  The heat clawed at my like the talons of a vulture—cruel and without mercy.

Sweat poured down my body.  My legs were heavy with fatigue.  Allowed myself to rest upon the floor.  White spots danced before my eyes like moths.  My head pounded with a wild throbbing pain.

Sister Enid reminded me of Old Woman from my band.  She had appeared to be like everyone else.  She ate, she moved about, she spoke.  Only she wasn’t really like other people.  She was a woman in an empty body.  Old Woman’s sound had been taken from her. . .

Did my details draw you into the scene?  

Did you experience Tanayia's reality?  

Do you have a favorite 'weather scene' in a novel you've read?

Why is it a favorite?

Thank you for stopping by today at BWL Insider Blog.

I hope you enjoyed this month's post :-)

Happy Reading,

Connie 

BWL author site

https://books2read.com/Tanayia/purchase link