Weather Poetry

WEATHER CHANNEL TO USE MORE MEANINGFUL LANGUAGE IN FORECASTS

(Atlanta, GA.) Due to viewer requests, The Weather Channel is modifying the wording used in its forecasts to make them more relevant and meaningful to viewers.

"We just didn't want viewers to be put off by all the bland, scientific language," meteorologist Paul Goodloe told reporters. "Some of them are not able to comprehend big words like 'cumulo-nimbus', 'atmosphere', 'hurricane' and 'front.' So, we just want to be a little more user friendly. After all, the family that watches the Weather Channel together stays dry together."

Gardener P. Allen Smith agrees with this move. "People want to know how the weather is going to affect their plants and gardens," he said. "This new format gives viewers a deeper picture of how the weather relates to their gardens, in a way that reflects the beauty of nature."

The new phraseology will take effect immediately, but it may take some time for some viewers to adjust. "Will things improve as we head on through time?" asked meteorologist Vivian Brown. "I think they will."

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Abundant sunshine - stars at night
Partial clearing - later - after midnight
Tomorrow - shall be sunswept - till next Thursday
When Winter with a leveling - Hand - Shall bring Frost first -
Of the Brutal season --

- Tom, GA (with apologies to Emily Dickinson)

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to the west in woods of pine, palmetto
to the north in open marsh and meadow
freezing wind will burn the fronds
of tender plants ('less they're near ponds)
but east of river's warming tide
and south on sandy oceanside
there'll be no freeze and be no dew
to make a frost at 32

- bruce JAX 9a/9b

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When Arctic wind howl down the plain,
Temp in Zone 7 fall fast to twain.
Memphis and Charlotte you cannot hide,
While your frond turn brown and dried.
In South Georgia palm green and tall,
Whether open yard or on South wall.
And Northward fools only fantasize,
While all their palm just up and dies.

- Palm Homey

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Once upon a morning dreary, while I pondered weak and weary
Over many a cold and om’nous forecast in the newspapor,
Suddenly, there came a dropping, as of rain so gently plopping,
Softly falling, dripping, sopping, over heath and hill and moor.
''Tis not snow, at least,' I muttered, not e’en looking out the door -
'Merely rain, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak November
And the deer had just dismembered all my plants (damned herbivores).
Eagerly I wished the summer; winter, it is such a bummer
Nary does one see a hummer* in the garden anymore.
Though Grevillea victoriae blooms brightly as before,
Rain, it keeps them all indoor.

Presently my heart grew stronger, for the sound of rain no longer
dripped and dropped and plipped and plopped as so incessantly before.
'Well!' said I, 'A welcome ending to the rain so unrelenting!
Now, before the chance eludes me, I had better go outdoors.'
For so many tasks awaited, miscellaneous lame chores -
So I opened wide the door.

Deep into that daylight glaring, long I stood there cursing, swearing,
For now from the sky was falling snow, and not rain as before;
Making not a sound they drifted, subtle, soft, by wind uplifted
Flakes of whiteness now alighting 'fore the threshold of my door.
Silence, it deceived me sorely; winter with its icy hoar
Settled now its frigid score.

Back into the kitchen turning, closing door to keep from freezing,
From the cold air briefly wheezing, pitching out the newspapor,
For its forecast had deceived me, and the snow that fell now grieved me,
So I sat before the TV to find out what was in store.
'Now,' said I, 'to get the latest 'bout this blizzard that doth roar,
TWC** will know for sure.'

But I soon became disgusted, finding they could not be trusted,
For their forecast still suggested rain was all 'twould be in store.
'Surely,' said I, 'Any Joe can look outside and see the snow
That falls upon my garden so, though TWC ignore.'
So I cast aside the rèmote, snowy blast preparing for,
Stepped once more outside the door.

Now I knew the task before me, to protect these plants so warmly
Lest they freeze and die, as in the frigid wintertimes of yore.
So I labored, although vainly, for the snow had now quite plainly
Covered stem and leaf completely, blanketing the garden o'er.
Even so, into the greenhouse yet untouchèd by the hoar
I hauled many plants, though sore.

But the nighttime, e'er foreboding, now upon me came in closing,
Ere I knew it all was dark, and on the snow fell as before.
And the wind now came up blowing, further worsening the snowing,
While the temper'ture was low’ring, so I had to get indoor,
Lest the stinging crystals biting freeze my body to the core,
So at last I went indoor.

Now the garden, it lies frozen; I'm regretting I had chosen
Many plants not suited to this climate far from milder shore.
And the mem'ry of my losses gnaws upon me, while I tosses
Fragments of the plants that froze upon the blazing heap that roars,
Yes, a bonfire to dispose of all the plants that grew before -
Now quite dead, forevermore.

*Anna's hummingbird
**The Weather Channel

- Ian

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