Here in eastern North Carolina, we recently experienced a winter storm resulting in several inches of snow. For many parts of the world snow isn’t a big deal during the winter months. It’s as normal as the wind blowing or the sun shining, but here on the coast of North Carolina, in a very unusual. We get snow maybe once every three to five years, with a big snow happening only once every dozen or so years. We usually get our snowfall from the south, which is funny because they get even less snowfall than we do. We rarely have snow at Christmas time, most of our snow days happen in February or March but we’ve had a few as early as October and as late as May. They say there was frost on the ground when my mother was born at Cinco de Mayo, but back then it was probably colder. Wasn’t there a little ice age a few centuries ago. I know my mom will appreciate that history lesson. But seriously, many of our winter months are rainy with only a few days that could even be considered cold.
Freak storms, whether snowstorms or some tropical depression make for great stories. Man against the elements or a stranded motorist story, perhaps even a heroic story of someone risking their lives to save another.
Weather shapes our setting and impacts our characters. How many romantic comedies or chick flicks have you seen or read where the heroine is dressed for work or a special event only to get doused by a puddle and a passing vehicle. The atmospheric setting where a character looks out a rain-drenched window into the cloudy night, or someone looks into a warm house from a rain-soaked street.
A sunny day at the beach suddenly dimmed by dark clouds or a frosty, foggy morning when the sun bursts through the gloom, each of these impacts the setting and can change the character’s outlook.
Living here in eastern North Carolina we are used to preparing for hurricanes but our friends who’d never experienced a hurricane were very afraid of the coming storm. As we listened to the news, I expected little more than a tropical storm, but Hurricane Irene wiped out several homes and businesses in our community due to two high tides and the slow-moving storm. It pushed tide waters inland carried by the wind bringing a wall of water that shoved houses off their foundations. It was the most devasting storm I’d ever experienced, but I still do not panic at the mention of a hurricane. I respect it and try to prepare for it, but I know most storms will be a little wind, a little water and possibly a short power outage.
As story tellers we can use weather not only as part of our setting but to also challenge our characters and even act as the antagonist in our story.
How important is weather to your story? How does your character react to the forecast or actual weather? Does their reaction fit their perspective as well as the situation? How can you use weather to magnify your story or your character?
Sherri Lupton Hollister, author 
Good post, Sherri. I added a tornado to the book I’m just finishing up. I made it tornado rather than a hurricane because the story takes place in late spring in the Asheville area.
Chapter from BAD HAIR DAY by Sarah Maury Swan.
Chapter 35
After gulping down my second cup of coffee, I slip on my barn boots and follow Rachel to the barn. I wave at my sister and Lizzie who are half way through collecting eggs. Amazing how peaceful I feel at this farm. That is until black clouds hurtle towards us.
Rachel mutters “Uh oh” and points toward the sky. “That looks like bad news.”
“What does?” My eyebrows rise and my mouth quivers.
The sky shouldn’t be this dark. Then I see silver lightning streak toward a tree in the back pasture.
The cows moo loudly and huddle close the barn door just as the tree cracks in two as if the lightning were a saw blade.
Rachel shouts to me, “We’ll throw out the hay after we get the cows in their stanchions. They’ll want to be inside now. You catch Shamrock and put him his stall while I catch his momma.
The way this storm is screaming at us, I’m not sure we’ll keep our power on long.
“Don’t worry about the power our generator turns on when the power goes off.” How can Rachel be so calm and me be so scared?
Sure enough, just as we get the cows hooked up, out goes the power. And then, click, the generator hums on. “Ain’t modern technology handy?” I yell to my cousin.
“Hot Diggety Dawg,” she hollers back.
We’re just done unhooking the cows and opening their stanchions when I hear a freight train roaring in the sky. Well, that’s what it sounds like to me.
Dad and Uncle Colm race in the barn’s front door shouting for us to get the cows out now! I guess they’ll be safer outside as in case a tree comes crashing down on the barn with them trapped inside.
The cows must think the same thing because they step on each other’s heels get down the hill and into their cave shelter.
Shamrock bawls for his mother who moos back at him, almost as if she’s saying, “It’s alright sonny, I’m here.”
Rachel starts scrubbing the milking hoses. No sense in letting the germs get into the works.
I take care of the milk as quickly as I can leaving it to cool in the cold room.
By the time I get back to help Rachel with the cleaning, she’s almost done. I scrape the remaining cow plops off the floor.
We get to the house in a dead heat and wince as the next bolt of lightning splits the sky wide open. I look up in time to see sky start to whirl and big oak tree is lifted into the air, along with one cow, Bossy. Poor girl shrieks in terror as she is hurtled toward the river. Nothing I can do about it, but my heart thumps a mile a minute. Maybe she’ll land softly and be safe.
Dad, D, and Uncle Colm are up on the roof hammering down tarp where the shingles have been ripped away. And Mom is helping Aunt Martha wipe up water slithering down the walls.
The only one of us who is calm and seems to be having fun is Joshua. And why wouldn’t he be with Lizzie and Monee entertaining him?
Lizzie and Monesha are trying to laugh off the shakes. But they can’t fool me.
I hand Rachel a towel and we start wiping down another dribbling wall.
How are Ben and Charlie faring at their farms, I wonder?
“How long do tornados last?” asks Monesha.
Lizzie sighs. “Depends. But I think the wind is dying down, so it shouldn’t be much longer.”
“Wonder if we’ll have school tomorrow.” Monee sighs and I know she doesn’t want to miss a day of school. Studying is her thing.
“Depends on how many trees are down on the road,” says Rachel as she wipes sweat from her face. “Mom should get a call once the county finishing assessing the damage.”
Half an hour later the house has been dried off, the wind is no longer moaning, and I see sparkles of sunlight peeping around the clouds. An hour after that we go back to barn to see if it is standing and that cows are safe.
They are, including Bossy, sort of. She puts her head on my shoulder as I lead her up from the river and I can feel her tremble as she plods along beside me. Poor girl. I hum a lullaby to her as we walk and that seems to settle her down.
Uncle Colm runs his hands along her legs and barrel checking for bruises and cuts. She seems to be in fine shape which makes us all sigh in relief.
“Can this kind of trauma make her stop giving milk?” I ask.
“Probably not,” Uncle Colm rubs Bossy’s flank and turns her out. “She’s a smart old girl.”
To prove his point, Bossy mosey off toward the closest alfalfa pile and pushes away the cow eating there. Guess she’s fine.
I’d better do my homework in case we do have school tomorrow. Life is a lot more easy going on a farm. At least, most of the time. Still I wonder what more can go wrong?
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