It seems more and more the South doesn’t get the kind of consistent winter weather it used to. Because I’m a 30-something-year-old white guy, a switch has been flipped and I read history for fun now, and the non-fiction books I read refer to the prolonged winters of yesteryear, the kind of winters we just don’t see in the here and now. But when we do get winter weather, we get it bad. Some commenters on Instagram (the trustworthiest of sources) were calling the January ice storm a generational ice storm, comparing it to one that hit Nashville in 1994.
It was certainly bad, sure enough. By the end of January, someone at church referred to that January 25th Sunday as January 50th. A good portion of people were without power for well over a week due to the downed lines and icy roads, so it’s no wonder the month felt so long to so many. That Saturday in January as the snow started to fall, I dusted off my old Russian Zorki 4K film camera (in no way similar to 4K digital cameras) and decided to document the winter event in negatives.
Footprints in the snow. Ilford Delta 100.
All things considered, my wife, Madison, and I were extremely fortunate. We were only without power for 12 hours, but not before fearing the worst. Early that week when I realized how bad things could get, I scoured Nashville for an indoor propane heater and rock salt to no avail, every other Tom, Dick, and Harry having the same idea. Multiple trips to multiple stores proved completely fruitless. Resigned to our fate, we resolved to make the most of staying at home, and figured we could at least heat things up on the grill outside if need be (which also proved to be fruitless, but more on that later).
Saturday came and went with only a fluffy layer of snow and a false sense of security. Madison and I went for a quick walk around the neighborhood, short enough we didn’t see much and long enough that ice formed in my beard. We spent the day watching TV and playing Bananagrams one-on-one on our dining room table. The next day, when the freezing rain started, things got interesting. We got a text from our friends Asher and Anna Clarke that their power had gone out, but since we had spare rooms and our power was on, I suggested they come to our house. After deliberating for a while, they loaded up food to bring with them and their two Australian shepherds and make the icy trek to our house in Asher’s Toyota 4Runner. The instant they rolled into our slippery driveway, we lost power.
Icy road near Dickerson Pike. Ilford Delta 100.
The whole crew decided to wait and see what would happen for a while. Madison and Anna Clarke played more Bananagrams while Asher and I tried in vain to use the side burner of my grill to heat up a kettle of water for coffee. Any delusions of grandeur I had about being a manly man cooking on a gas grill in a winter storm evaporated with each wind gust that extinguished the flame. I eventually got water warm enough to make mediocre coffee and then we went inside to get warm.
About the time that Asher and Anna Clarke arrived at our house, they got a notification on their phone that their power had come back on. In an unexpected reversal, it was our friends who now offered for us to stay at their house to weather the storm. I hadn’t envisioned being anywhere but in my own home during the bad weather, and as such I was more than reluctant to pack up and leave, but after some tense deliberations, I came around to Madison’s way of thinking, and I’m glad we did.
A cozy warm house. Ilford Delta 100.
Leaving our neighborhood that Sunday was the first time we’d been out since the freezing rain fell. It looked like an icy tornado had gone through Neely’s Bend. Frozen treetops bent prostrate to the ground, taking power lines with them. Multiple times I careened my unwieldy Chevy Tahoe to the opposite side of the street to avoid making contact with the downed lines. When it wasn’t power lines, we plowed through tree limbs trying not to think about the Tahoe’s poor paint job. I drove in 4-wheel drive with the transmission in low gear to avoid relying on brakes too much, since the road was one long ribbon of ice.
I grew up on a very steep hill in East Tennessee, and anytime we got weather like that, there was no leaving. So now, each winter I relish the challenge of driving in the snow and ice, albeit cautiously. What would normally have been a fifteen-minute drive probably took closer to thirty, but we made it one piece. We spent that unexpected evening enjoying our time with Asher and Anna Clarke, playing games and eating dinner with friends. The house was warm and our bellies were full, so in the end, it was the right decision.
A house across the way. Ilford Delta 100.
Icy neighborhood roads. Ilford Delta 100.
By late that night, after we had gone to bed, our power came back on, as a text from Nashville Electric Service and a notification from my internet router confirmed. It was technically a work day, but I’m sure I spent a good bit of the day driving back and forth to the house to check on the roads and getting packed up and back into our own digs that Monday morning. Madison and I spent the next couple of days working from home.
But with power staying off for so people many that week, there was constant chatter in group texts with Madison’s friends about who lost power and whose power came back on. We eventually hosted one of Madi’s old roommates and spent evenings playing Spyro, The Dragon (after she read my last blog post), thanks to which I have regressed — to a degree — to my old, middle-school gaming ways.
For weeks afterwards, massive trucks carrying brush drove all over town cleaning up the fallen debris. Even today, in March, we still pass piles of tree limbs all over East Nashville. A generational ice storm leaves it’s mark. I’m thankful we came out of it unscathed and very little inconvenienced, especially compared to some, and it gave me an excuse to shoot some film on an old camera.
Sunlight on icy power lines. Ilford Delta 100.
The sun thaws the neighborhood. Ilford Delta 100.
The old carwash covered in ice. Ilford Delta 100.