Loran Smith: Fickle March

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Loran Smith: Fickle March

Loran Smith
Loran Smith

With the coming of March, this means that we are likely to experience the ficklest weather—from warm and temperate days to a foot of snow or more.

Having grown up in Middle Georgia, I can only remember one snowstorm that allowed about an inch of snow to collect which brought about finger snapping longevity for the snow man we built.  We hardly had time to place a corncob pipe in his mouth.

 

 

 

 

Then I got to Athens and heard about “snow days” from upperclassmen who informed us from the hinterlands that if it snowed enough to collect on the ground there was a great chance that classes would be called off for a couple of days.

Snow days were for snowball fights and makeshift sleds to slide down hills where trees were scarce.   When that came about, the snow day became a party day.  There was plenty of beer to drink as the frolic lasted deep into the night.

I had never seen such a sight in all my life, the campus under a picturesque blanket of snow.  I walked from my dorm to downtown, mainly to order a chili dog at the Varsity.  I swooned to the snow white beauty of the North campus, which has an exciting and inspiring landscape any time of the year—but when it is covered by a couple of inches of snow, there is something especial about its gleaming appearance.

 

 

 

 

One football player was caught up in a good-news-bad-news circumstance.  He put on his cleats which enabled him to climb a hill to easily guide his sled—a round oversized Coca-Cola sign—downhill, but when his foot was caught in a grassy knoll near the bottom, he tore tendons in his ankle and lost out on a free agent contract with an NFL team.,

I remember there was a big snowstorm in March of 1960.  The Internet says there was five inches on March 5th.  It was also the time of sadness with the popular Bulldog line coach, J. B. Whitworth, passing away.

The snow was melting when the funeral procession reached the gravesite at the Oconee Hill Cemetery.   I was at the burial and was very sad.  I knew how much the players admired him and respected him and later realized that he was the glue that was responsible for the bonding that made the Georgia team the surprise of the Southeastern Conference in 1959—when the Bulldogs won the SEC title over the heavyweights and heavily favored teams of LSU, Ole Miss and Auburn.

As the Hearst pulled up, and the family gathered for the final rites, the snow was melting in bright sunshine.  Coach Whit had helped bring sunshine to Georgia in his short stay and one sensed that we were enduring a great loss.

Through the years, I have an image of snowstorms in Northeast Georgia coming about in March.  How about 1993 when a blizzard dumped up to 35 inches in some parts?

Then there was the “Snowpocalypse” of 2014 which paralyzed Atlanta for days.  That was unforgettable although it is easy to conclude that the worst thing, we ever had to deal with is an ice storm.  Doesn’t take much, but when the precipitation turns to ice and we lose power, then those are the worst of times.

March will make us smile some days and then give us the back of its hand just as we enjoy a cup of coffee on the patio.   The bright red cardinal, Stan Musial, returned last weekend, bringing about feelings of warmth as temperatures in the thirties made you start a fire and reach for a book. 

I’ve learned that no month is fickler than March when it comes to weather.  Then there are the March winds.  We know they are coming; we just don’t know when.

Wind is the bane of all outdoor activities unless you are flying a kite.  Wind can make you miserable when you are fishing, and it sours the day for golf and baseball.

There is good news, however, about March.  We can count on some balmy pockets of sunshine and benign winds.  Eventually, April shows up.  Then we have to worry about tornados.  

 

 

 

 

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Greg is closing in on 15 years writing about and photographing UGA sports. While often wrong and/or out of focus, it has been a long, strange trip full of fun and new friends.