In Burke County, snow is possible, panic is certain

“And in the final days, there will be snow and rumors of snow, but the end is not yet near.”

Or something like that.

I’d have to consult with Tom Bland, or Fred Schuszler, or Matt Matthews to be sure.

Many of us, as we read the weather forecast last week, assumed that the end was upon us.

Early to mid-week we were told to expect the snowstorm of the century, with 12 to 18 inches of the flaky white stuff projected to fall across the Foothills.

Such a snow dump would have rivaled the Great Blizzard of March 1993, which deposited 12 to 15 inches of snow across Morganton, Drexel, and Valdese.

No wait … that’s not right.

By late in the week, the forecast was changing hourly.

Forget the snowstorm of the century, the Ice Apocalypse was now bearing down upon us.

Hour after hour of freezing rain was said to be approaching.

Trees would topple. Power lines would snap. The entire world would be plunged into darkness and polar temperatures, perhaps forever.

The only food available would be self-hunted possums and skunks.

Water would have to be lapped up directly from woodland streams — assuming they weren’t iced over.

Students would have to walk barefoot through the ice to school — uphill both ways.

Fortunately, the denizens of Burke County responded like the calm and law-abiding citizens they are.

Grocery stores were looted.

Old ladies were wrestled to the floor and bags of Sunbeam white snatched from their bony fingers.

Milk was available only from unshaven black-market thugs hanging out on unlit street corners at a minimum cost of $10 per gallon.

Gas-powered generators flew off the shelves, which was pretty dangerous for those trying to catch them.

By Friday afternoon, all of Burke County was at the ready, holding its collective breath, waiting for that first raindrop to fall, hit the pine tree limb, and freeze instantly.

The refrigerators were stuffed with milk.

Pantries stuffed with bread.

Shotguns stuffed with buckshot.

And then … nothing.

Well, not quite nothing.

A little snow … a little sleet … a little wintry mix … a little freezing rain. A lot of “What the hell was all the fuss about?”

By late Sunday afternoon, the only precipitation visible in Burke County was on the TV screen as the Denver Broncos battled the New England Patriots in the midst of a driving snowstorm in Empower Field at Mile High.

Of course, enough ice stuck to the roads to lead to the cancellation of Burke County Public Schools classes right up through April’s Easter vacation.

Of course, enough ice stuck to the roads to give layabouts the opportunity to stretch the weekend a bit.

And, of course, enough ice stuck to the roads to justify a man who had been on a stringent diet for weeks to whip up the Big Breakfast — bacon, eggs, biscuits, and potatoes.

Now, as I write, it’s the middle of another week.

Now, as I write, snow is once again in the forecast.

We are older. We are wiser. We have learned absolutely nothing.

Somewhere even now, a grocery cart rattles toward the bread aisle. Somewhere else, a man is topping off his gas cans “just in case.” Weather apps are being refreshed with the urgency of election returns.

And maybe this time it will snow. Maybe it won’t. Maybe we’ll get a respectable dusting or maybe we’ll be right back here next week, telling the same story, only louder and with more milk.

Because in Burke County, winter doesn’t end with a blizzard or a thaw. It ends when the forecast finally stops threatening us — and even then, we don’t quite trust it.

So yes, there will be snow and rumors of snow. There will be bread, milk, and panic in measured proportions.

But take heart. The end is not yet near. And if it is, at least we’ll face it well-fed.