Saturday night in Edgecomb. It’s snowing to beat the band. Evening news is focusing on the major blizzard that's burying the northeast in a foot or more of snow. “If you don't have to go out, don't,” say the authorities. Friends are texting, saying, “Man! Can you believe this? Enough is enough.”

I had made a point of going to Hannaford's in Damariscotta earlier to stock up on water, food and whiskey. Who wants to be snowed in, possibly without power and heat, without the makings of a manhattan? Not I.

Shovels and snow blowers are ready for the big cleanup tomorrow. Everyone I know is hunkering down and settling in, hoping for the best.

My mother, who is lucky enough to be in Fort Myers, Fla., with my sister and her boyfriend, dogs Dudley and Penny, and Sophie the cat, calls. “Is it snowing?”

“Um yeah,” I say. “Have you seen the news lately?”

Suddenly a big BOOM. My little dog jumps and looks at me, wide-eyed. Another BOOM. My kitties come flying off the couch and make a mad dash for the safety of the bedroom. BOOM! BOOM! I tell my mother I have to hang up because something is going on outside and my dog is seriously shaking and trying to climb up my legs. “I'll call you back,” I tell her.

More booms, loud and close together. I remember hearing about “thundersnow,” an unusual occurrance that happened somewhere nearby during the last snowstorm, just a couple days ago.

I pick up my dog and tell the kitties it's OK. But I'm thinking, “This is weird.” I call my neighbor, who is wondering, as I am, what's going on. She goes to her front door, opens it, and says, “Oh. Fireworks.”

Sure enough when I look out my front window, toward Wiscasset, there’s a fireworks display going on. I call my mother back and tell her it’s OK. “Someone is setting off fireworks in Wiscasset in the middle of a big snowstorm.”

“Oh,” she said. “That's elegant.”