Fog Warning

Out here, the weather often imposes itself into the simplest decisions. This has taken some getting used to. In the city we tend to ignore weather unless it’s in the category of disaster. Our homes, offices, roads and general infastructure insulate us so effectively that weather almost seems irrelevant. In rural Juniata County though, weather affects everything, from housekeeping (will freshly washed clothes dry on the line today?) to shopping (is the river high enough to block the bridge into town?), and outside work (if it rains we can burn that huge pile of scrap wood lying in the field).

In today’s early morning email was this slightly eyebrow-lifting message from the emergency warning service:

PAZ019-027-028-045-046-049>053-056>059-063>066-141400-
/O.NEW.KCTP.FG.Y.0015.061214T0715Z-061214T1400Z/

215 AM EST THU DEC 14 2006

THE NATL WEATHER SVC IN STATE COLLEGE HAS ISSUED A DENSE FOG ADVISORY, WHICH IS IN EFFECT UNTIL 9 AM EST THIS MORNING.

CLEAR SKIES & LIGHT WINDS HAVE LED TO THE FORMATION OFLOCALLY DENSE FOG. EXPECT VISIBILITY TO BE REDUCED TO NEAR ZERO AT TIMES, ESPECIALLY IN THE RIVER VALLEYS.

A DENSE FOG ADVISORY MEANS VISIBILITIES WILL FREQUENTLY BE REDUCED TO LESS THAN ONE QUARTER MILE. MOTORISTS SHOULD DRIVE WITH EXTREME CAUTION & ALLOW ADDITIONAL TRAVEL TIME. USE LOW BEAM HEADLIGHTS & REDUCE DRIVING SPEEDS.

I like the way they capitalize every sentence in these messages, as if their keyboards have no lowercase letters. It's reminiscent of the early computers which used teletypewriters (only caps) for printed output. Or telegrams, the old-fashioned kind where the message was composed of strips of paper glued onto a form. These were ALWAYS important. It's odd though that emergency messages should be capitalized. Any graphic designer will tell you that all-caps sentences are the hardest to read. Perhaps in our cultural consciousness a sense of vital importance attaches to all-capitals messages, even though we've long ago abandoned these ancient technologies.

After reading the emergency warning I became curious and walked out into this dangerous fog. It had enshrouded the landscape in pleasingly mysterious ways. I glanced at the barn and coop. The warm glow from the chicken’s heat lamp, seen against the hugeness of the surrounding fog and the looming nearby barn, seemed extra cozy. To my eye, the scene formed a visual metaphor for primeval security and warmth against a cold and threatening exernal world.

This made me think about our dependence on electricity. If the line goes down, no warmth for the chickens on 15 degree nights and no stove for us. But as the dawn broke, these thoughts soon lifted, as did the fog.

As I stood looking at the coop in the brightening morning mist, Foghorn the rooster let out an ear-splitting screech to welcome the day. All seemed well in chickendom. Now if his five wives would only start laying again – we need eggs for the Christmas baking!