I saw snow Saturday.
It was in the middle of what comedian Lewis Black would call a sign of the Apocalypse: I experienced four seasons within one day in Charlotte, N.C., Saturday.
I woke up to a cool, crisp spring morning. By mid-day, it had gotten warm enough that I could take off my jacket.
Then, about 1 p.m., the temperature dropped, and the rain started. Only it didn't stay rain. Within just a few minutes, it was a mixture of ice and flakes that lasted for five minutes and sent the competitors in the horse show I was photographing galloping for cover.
By 2:30, it was almost fall-like - a light wind whipped through Latta Plantation, as the blast of cannons from a nearby Civil War re-enactment filled the air.
It was either cannon fire, or the first foray in the ultimate battle of good and evil. Judging by the weather, my money's on the Apocalypse.
Speaking of the Apocalypse, my wife almost invoked the fury of a woman mortified last week. It all started with the Thomson Rotary Club's visit to Pine Top Farm for an evening cattle drive and dinner. Two tractor-pulled trailers of spectators had already left when we arrived, leaving Miriam embarrassed that we had to walk to catch up.
Enter Mirror Man, the bumbling husband.
I had brought along my camera to take pictures of the event - it's always one of my favorite events to shoot - but I didn't have a "card" with me. (For those unfamiliar with digital cameras, not having a card is the equivalent of not having film in the non-digital days. In other words, unless I had crayons and construction paper, there weren't going to be any pictures of the cattle drive.)
So we had to walk back across the field and to the car to wait on a card.
Confession time: I admit I threw a "quiet, controlled" tantrum as we walked back to the car. And I may have thrown a few things - like my wife's cell phone - when I realized that not only did I not have a card, I didn't have my cell phone either.
Combine those ingredients, let simmer and what do you get? A large order of steamed wife. Very, very quiet steamed wife.
She did finally start talking again, but only after we got on a "late-comers" wagon with folks like Rusty Lovelace, Dot and Bob Knox, Ann and Mike McQuaig and others. She compared bad husbands' gifts with Dot - I think I beat Bob's iron skillet with a mother-purchased frog bracelet I tried to pass off as an original Jason purchase. She relived babysitting stories with the McQuaigs. She laughed as she recounted my "They're just so permanent" comment during a recent discussion about the potential for little Mirror Men.
And, yes, she even spoke to me.
After all, I had the car keys, and she probably couldn't have ridden one of Pine Top's herd home.