Man, break out the snuggies. Looking at the forecast I see one day after another of cloudless afternoons in the fifties, cloudless nights hovering just around freezing. If it could stay there all winter Uncle Joel would be quite content. But it won’t.
This will be my eighth winter in the Gulch and should be the least uncomfortable in every way. The first five winters I lived in a rickety unheatable seventies-era travel trailer, and I developed a real attitude toward winter. People hear about “the desert” and think maybe winter is the comfortable season. Maybe down in Saguaro country it is. But this is the high desert. It’s not Minnesota or even Michigan cold, but it’s cold.
The winter of 08-09 in particular, there were times I was afraid I might freeze. The electric/propane heater broke down and anyway the local cops had learned my name and I had to avoid town, so even when I had money for propane I usually had no transport to get any. That was a long, dark winter. At least one time I went five days without ever taking off my heavy coat even – especially – in bed. I got so used to rationing fuel and layering up that by spring my friends couldn’t stand the smell of me.
But things improved incrementally after that. The following winter Claire lived here, so transporting propane wasn’t such a big deal. She also taught me the virtues of thrift stores, where there are piles of warm clothing practically for the taking. She went back to the Pacific Northwet (don’t blame her; the desert is either your thing or it isn’t, and there’s no point trying to develop a taste for it) but by then I had a bartering network with the neighbors, and again trips to town were available.
In the winter of 11-12 the boys and I moved into the unfinished Secret Lair, planning to heat with wood which is plentiful and cheap. I learned the limitations of my first freebie wood stove (and the Lair’s insulation,) but it was still a massive improvement over the trailer. Last winter I got a stove that actually draws.
This winter the floor is insulated and skirted, the woodshed is full, the dresser drawers overflow with clean snuggies, and if I’ll get off my ass and do it I’ll even have tile on the floor. It should be almost like I was normal.
But I do confess, I’ve developed a real attitude toward winter.
“It should be almost like I was normal.”
NNNOOOO! Not normal! NNNOOO! Don’t go there or you’ll never get back. Normal is not a good thing! Never ever ever settle for NORMAL! It would ruin everything.
HA!
I tried to be normal. Oh, the boring and depressing stories I could tell about normal.
Never fear that, CH. I am not normal and will never again try to be though it kill me tomorrow. But a warm place in winter would be nice.
Grew up in the wet, wind chill factor winters of the midwest; moved to Colorado and bundled up when the snow started falling and nearly sweat to death. Moved to NV and found out that after months of 100+ degrees of heat anything in the 30-40 degree range felt cold! even if it was still dryer air. Years later still trying to “acclimate” like I should already have; astounded when people tell me it’s warm here in the winters. It may not be damp but it’s still cold.
Global warming is an epic fail.