The Week We Met Fern

Most people agree with me when I say it is a fact that Southerners panic at the first sign of an impending ice storm. They rush to the grocery store for essentials quicker than a Chick-fil-A closes on a Sunday and study the local weather report like they’re prepping for a final exam in Meteorology 101. And on January 24, 2026, while the lovely ice apocalypse known as Fern knocked on our door, we did exactly that. I stocked up on more food than I am embarrassed to admit and dreamed of cooking cozy recipes I’d been meaning to try for years.

Now, I have lived through a handful of ice storms. The 1989 deep freeze in Jackson, Mississippi, left me with many magical memories- like skidding down an iced hill in the back of my mother’s blue Astro van while holding my Scottish terrier in a death grip as Rod Stewart’s Forever Young played in the background on the way to my father’s office, which would become our makeshift home for a week. To this day, I cannot hear that song without thinking about that specific car ride (or slide) of fear.

While the situation was less than ideal, we were warm, had decently comfortable mats to sleep on, and most importantly, I was introduced to the miniseries Lonesome Dove. Instantly, I fell in love with the characters and storyline. I could read that book and watch that show repeatedly for the rest of my life and die happy, though my childhood aspirations of becoming Diane Lane faded as I eventually learned the occupation of “Lori Darlin.”

I fell asleep to the sound of heavy sleet the night of the twenty-third and prayed we would somehow be spared the worst of that bitch, Fern. However, I woke before 6 a.m. to the sound of my fan and white-noise machine turning off due to a power outage-signaling her official, ominous arrival. The house was eerily quiet when some act of God pushed me to book a local hotel room for the next five days. I’ll never know why I chose so many days, but boy am I glad I did…though five would not be nearly enough.

After the rest of the house woke up and gathered their things, my husband and I decided to turn the water off to the house. When my husband declared we must open all faucets to drain the system first, I realized maybe I had made a wise decision after all when picking a partner. Who knew draining the system was such a thing?

Around lunch, our family headed out on our adventure to the nearby hotel that would prove much lengthier than I ever anticipated. I didn’t know how right my children were when they gave me a pep talk before driving on the ice and continuously told me, “Mom, you have got to lock in! You can do this!”

So, I locked in, and we were off… to live in the Green Hills Hyatt Place (which was lovely, and the staff was amazing) with a handful of Nashvillians and all their animals. I was more than grateful to have a warm place to go and quickly realized just how lucky we were as news reports showed how much our city was suffering.

After it was all said and done, there are a few lessons I learned from Nashville’s Ice Apocalypse, aka “Fern.”

1. Trees do, in fact, explode, and the sound is terrifyingly creepy.
In the morning hours of the first day without power, the popping and cracking of trees in Nashville were constant. Neighbors walked around in helmets, and a giant limb barely missed my husband’s truck. Thank God he had enough wherewithal to move it. He was on fire that day.

2. Don’t panic buy everything unless you can save it all.
We were not smart with this and lost more groceries than I care to admit. It was painful, especially knowing that I could have simply kept them outside since the temperature was only a few degrees most days. I’m disappointed in myself with that choice, but hey-we can’t win them all. Afterall, my brain was basically frozen like everything around me.

3. Have your significant other do a sleep study prior to sharing a tiny hotel room with your family.
Between a world-record-volume snorer and our thirteen-year-old Labrador retriever, my children and I would have done anything for a handy-dandy CPAP machine. I think one night I downed my eight-year-old’s cough syrup just to get one hour of peace. At one point, the snorer was fully asleep on the bathroom floor with the pull-out couch cushions because he had been banned from the main sleeping area.

4. If you decide to engage in neighborhood or family group texts during a stressful time like this, think before you press send.
With my lack of sleep and stress from all the surrounding chaos, I just gave up and let my thumbs-down emoji fly. Got an opinion I may not agree with? Thumbs down. Sending a recipe I may not like? Thumbs down. Got a political comment I may not agree with? Double thumbs down. While an occasional thumbs down feels good in the moment, it will be interesting to see how the next neighborhood gathering and family dinner go. Oh well.

5. Do not agree- and I repeat, do not-agree to go check on someone’s cat.
While we were living in the Hyatt, there were animals from all walks of life also seeking shelter. Half the time the lobby looked like a scene from Noah’s Ark.

An old family friend asked if we could check on their cat. My husband is a self-proclaimed cat person, while I prefer dogs, so of course he took the opportunity to make a new friend in Chloe the cat. I ran out to catch a movie with a friend, and when I returned, I found my husband belly-up to the bar with our new bartender friend, Cairo-covered in blood and scratches. I was shocked.

While he looked like he had returned from a bar fight, it was clear that Chloe the cat was not open to new relationships and had bitten, scratched, and clawed her way to a corner of the room while he was left in a daze and the beginning stages of cat scratch fever.

Being a former nurse, I realized we needed to get him on antibiotics quickly because his hands were as large as Mickey Mouse’s from the swelling, and he couldn’t bend his fingers. The poor Hyatt workers said it looked like a murder scene in that room, and Taylor’s hopes and dreams of always being a natural cat whisperer were crushed.

My eight-year-old daughter wrapped it all up with a bow when she looked him straight in the face and said,
“THIS is exactly why I am a dog person.”

6. Ice storm friends will be friends for life.
Whether reconnecting with old childhood friends, meeting famous musicians for nightly happy hour, or having regular breakfast in your pajamas and no makeup with familiar acquaintances, the trauma bond of bunkering together while trying to entertain children, handle work, get enough sleep, and be patient with local municipalities will build memories to last a lifetime- some better than others.

7. Ice storms are far less fun when you’re the adult.
While my children were eager to get back into a routine, the change of scenery and taste of adventure was overall a blast for them while the adults were just trying to survive. Looking back, I remember returning to our home in 1989 to a burst pipe and thinking, “that stinks,” without realizing the gravity of the stress and inconvenience my parents were facing. What I would have given to be a kid this time, too.

8. I still hate the cold.
Temperatures steadily dipped below zero during this storm, and it was a reminder that I still hate cold weather. I do not want to ski or play in snow. I do not want to bundle up. I do not ever want to “layer.” I do not want to participate in any bit of that. I am a true Deep South girly who could take or leave a temperature below 70, and the ice storm proved that is still very much the case.

While it is now all a laughing matter, I know there were many stories that are sad and heartbreaking stemming from the challenging visit by Fern. Weather disasters are tough to handle no matter what, and my hope and prayer is that cities like Nashville and municipalities like NES can better prepare for the next natural disaster for their residents. Maybe they can take notes from the amazing staff at the Green Hills Hyatt. Or maybe by some grace of God, we won’t have another visitor who overstayed her welcome like that damn Fern.

When Faith Looks Worn