JUST CHILLING
Published in the February 1, 2025 edition.
I’d been waiting about two months for some sort of winter weather to hit the lowlands, so I was pretty excited when last weekend’s Bishop forecast predicted some snow along with legitimately cold temperatures. There was even a “winter storm warning” along with the forecast. It was reassuring that the US Weather Service remembered where it stashed its winter warning verbiage, since it hadn’t been used in a while.
It had become boring bordering on embarrassing to keep talking about the alleged winter when daytime temps in Bishop routinely hit the 60-degree mark, if not higher. Nighttime lows were warm, too. As December stretched into January, it was getting harder and harder to come up with casual chit-chat and weather banter. You can say, “Boy, sure is warm for winter” only so many times.
I was looking forward to changing the conversation.
But first I had to change clothes.
Maybe a sweater for the first time this winter? Great. Except I have no idea where I put my sweaters after last year. Next. The long-sleeve base layers smell musty after coming out of the bottom drawer. Didn’t I wash them after last year? A knit cap? Must be with the sweaters somewhere. Not to worry. My Death Valley lizard cap will be iconic and ironic as winter headgear. Gloves? Calm down Nanook of the North, it’s only in the 20s.
Okay, sturdy t-shirt, big warm flannel shirt. Great. Grab the “warmer” coat, as in warmer than a fleece. Bulky shirt, big coat, bad muscle memory. The struggle is real. The popping sound was me almost dislocating my shoulder while putting on the coat. The shirt sleeves were bunched up. Let’s try that again. Cussing optional, but extensive.
The hip Patagonia or Prana “outdoor adventure” pants are as thin as paper towels, making them fine for 60 degrees, but not when it’s sort of chilly. Old jeans with some bulk are the order of the day.
Might as well find my boots. Don’t want them to think they’ve been forgotten or abandoned. This snow will eventually melt, so there might be mud or puddles to play in. But not the big ones. Just the low-cut boots. Put on big wool socks just to find out if they still fit. They did. Felt a little silly when I looked outside. The snow didn’t even stick on the sidewalks. I walked on the snowy lawn to justify the boots and heavy socks.
The car had a dusting of snow. Hmm, brush is not in the back. Back over the snowy lawn to find it in the house, lurking in the broom closet, which makes a moderate amount of sense. Knocked snow off the car. Could have done it with my coat sleeve but damnit I went and got the brush. Scrape a little ice and frost. Remember the scraper on the other end of the brush sucks. The “good” scraper might also be hiding in the closet. Not going back to find it. There were big streaks of frost lining the windshield. Time for an old trick. Get in, hit the washer fluid and wipers. No more frost. But the high school kids walking past must have thought I was a daft old man who can’t scrap a windshield.
Drove around town doing my meager list of business and errands. Place looked good. Even a dusting of snow can sugarcoat plenty of blemishes. Looped around the edges of town, the Whites were actually white for the first time since November. Mt. Tom and Basin Mtn. were fully clothed in pure white, standing silently together like a hulking wedding couple at the altar.
When the afternoon sun arrived, it melted the winter scene and amped up the temperature.
It was fun while it lasted.
Jon Klusmire of Bishop is keeping an eye on the long-term weather forecasts and is still searching for his sweaters and ice scraper.
