The Cat Moans

The cat weathervane anchored above my house has been moaning for the last 3 hours. The wind rushing past the eves with an occasional rumble, makes sleep elusive. WSOC’s John Ahrens a freakishly narrow shouldered guy I’m used to seeing in Charleston is explaining the National Weather Service’s watch and warning system to a sleepy Charlotte. It’s 11:30.

Funny how the talking weather heads and station executives like to stay on the air for extra innings when storms roll across the Piedmont.

Of course 100 years ago those who lived along Queens Road or out in the hither lands of Providence or Sharon didn’t have the play by play and color commentary of John Ahrens and Steve Udelson nor the computer graphics of WSOC-TV's Severe Weather Center 9.

They just listened to the wind and the rain.

I turn off the flat screen high definition image of John Arenas plunging my bedroom into welcome darkness. The wind pushes harder against the trees that surround my house and I listen.

The rain comes harder, then stops and comes harder still. The cat moans as the wind pushes its tail South then East, then North and South again.

The tornado warning will last until 11:45 and so I listen for that tell-tale sound of a freight train rushing through the night’s darkness. I’m prepared at any second to make a dash to the basement to escape the reported tornado’s path. But all I hear is rain and wind and a copper cat moaning as it pivots in circles on the roof above my house.

I imagine that 100 years ago a weather vane and a watchful eye to the west was about as good as weather forecasting could be. Quiet tin roof panels on a barn across the pasture meant all was well. Livestock running for cover meant you might want to do the same. A banging unlatched door on the chicken coop meant you might want to pay attention.

It’s the thud of a limb on the far side of the house that gets my attention and I get up to have a look. Madison my 7 year old black lab stirs in the kitchen and tags along to see what is up. Close behind Madison is Callie her six month old Labrador student of all things dog. The three of us determine all is well and one by one we wander back to our respective beds.

It’s 12:05 and a new day, the wind has eased and so too the rain, its steady rhythm quiets further as I drift off to sleep.

While not winter's end this storm will be one of many that will signal that spring is coming and with it more weather alerts and Severe Weather Center 9 interruptions.

Next time I think I’ll turn off the talking weather heads, and just enjoy the sounds of rain as it falls across the Carolinas.