Tuesday a familiar sense of panic engulfed the community as we anticipated the 100 percent certainty of a snowfall the next day. Not a dusting, but a sure-nuff school-cancelling, prayer meeting-postponing, grocery-grabbing winter storm. The second (or third?) major one we’ve had this winter, not counting our White Christmas, which was more picturesque than panicky.

How quickly and thickly the snow fell Wednesday, beginning around noon, just as Mr. Dave Brown, my TV weather guru, had forecast; just as the yellow fleet was pulling out of Tiger Drive to deliver home youngsters to enjoy yet another unscheduled winter vacation day.

As the snow fell, traffic along Highway 51 was jammed as cars waited in line to make a left turn into the grocery store parking lot.

The frantic shoppers, we surmised, were mothers of all those out-of-school kids whose hunger would be compounded by frolicking in the snow and just being around the house for the next 36 hours.

Later in the day, as the snow accumulated, the supermarket frenzy subsided and by the time we slid into the parking lot in the late afternoon to make our own grocery run, milk and bread were still available. It was bacon, however, that I craved on this cold night. Bacon and hotcakes, made with whole wheat flour and buttermilk.

Rupert obliged me. Our system works like this: I mix up the batter and he, the pro, flips the flapjacks. He pours two puddles in the heated electric skillet. Then he watches until they start bubbling on the top, signaling it’s time to turn them. When they come off the griddle, he slathers the golden disks with butter.

 OK, it’s not a low-cal meal and we don’t do this often. But we compensate by using sugar-free syrup.

And besides, kids aren’t the only ones whose hunger increases commensurate with the falling mercury.