by Rob Howard – Knoxvillerob.com
There’s a saying around here that folks claim about a lot of places, but in East Tennessee, it actually holds true: if you don’t like the weather, just wait a few minutes.
Right now, Knoxville sits under an icy glaze. The trees—mostly barren this time of year—glisten as much as they can through a thick cloudy haze. It’s the kind of day that takes you back. For me, it recalls my 9th birthday at the end of April, walking through the crunch of unexpected snow. Or around 2013, when it got so warm that the dogwood trees staged a second bloom, their characteristic pink petals striking against a backdrop of snow that nobody saw coming.
Then there was the Blizzard of ’93. I was home from college when it hit. We hunkered down in the basement, cooking breakfast for every meal on an old pot-belly stove my mom had insisted on installing “just in case.” My dad—bless him—trudged off through waist-deep to chest-deep drifts to join his National Guard troop several miles away. That stove turned out to be more than decorative after all.
My Papaw Ross used to talk about the summer of 1925—long and blazing hot, he’d say, back before air conditioning was popular around here. Those old stories connect us to a different Tennessee, one where weather wasn’t just an inconvenience but a force that shaped daily life in ways we can barely imagine now.
The 2-3 Rule
East Tennessee winters follow what I call the 2-3 rule: it usually snows 2-3 times per year, we usually get 2-3 inches, it usually hangs around 2-3 days, and then everything goes back to normal. We’re not the Rockies. We’re not Minnesota. We’re somewhere in between—just enough winter to remember what it feels like, not so much that we’re actually prepared for it.
Which brings us to the French toast phenomenon.
We joke that everyone must be craving French toast during snow forecasts because there’s always a run on milk, white bread, and eggs. (Presumably everyone already keeps cinnamon and powdered sugar in stock.) The grocery stores get slammed. The weather reports get dramatic. Todd Howell shares his folksy warnings on the local news, and we all nod knowingly while doing exactly what he’s warning us about anyway.
The Characters Make the Storm
You can always spot the classics—those breeds of men who choose to wear shorts in almost any situation. My friend Jody Collins is one of them. He might have a parka, toboggan, and hiking boots on, but sure enough, there are the winter shorts. God bless him.
Then there are the kids, dreaming of dramatic temperature changes when the big test is coming and they haven’t studied enough. But honestly, it’s nearly impossible to sit around reading when there are snowmen to build, snow angels to create, and snowball fights to be had.
A Memory From the Bottom of the Hill
One of my earliest memories takes me back to when I was 3 or 4 years old. We lived at the top of a hill in Benton Station, and my grandparents lived at the bottom. When the snow came, kids from my age to twenty-somethings all congregated at my Mamaw’s house – now the Cottage at Howard’s Pond. They’d pull sleds, trash can lids, pieces of plywood—whatever they had—up to my driveway and slide down the hill to where the house was warm to the point of hot.
Inside, the smells: black coffee, bacon and eggs frying. The sounds: dozens of folks laughing, telling stories. My grandparents absolutely loved having all that life gathering at their place. It’s one of my favorite memories—not just of snow, but of what snow does to a community when you let it.
What Changes, What Stays the Same
Some things have changed since then. We’ve got better forecasting now, more sophisticated equipment, apps that tell us exactly when the sleet will start. But in terms of actual preparation? We’re about the same. The city still scrambles. The salt trucks still can’t get everywhere. And we still act surprised every single time.
What hasn’t changed is the magic of it—the way a few inches of snow can turn Knoxville into a slower, quieter, more neighborly version of itself. The way it makes you remember your 9th birthday, or your Papaw’s stories, or the sound of laughter in your grandmother’s kitchen.
If you don’t like the weather in East Tennessee, just wait a few minutes.
But if it snows?
Don’t wait. Get outside. Build the snowman. Make the memory.
Because in 2-3 days, it’ll all be gone.