Friends,
Last weekend was one of the warmest and sunniest I recall in February. The birds were angry with each other, competing for the last bits of food laying around, but the gladiolus have started to poke out of the ground. Early spring, right? By 2:00 on Sunday afternoon, the temperature dropped like a stone. Clouds rolled in. The yeti strolled by.
My gorgeous houseguest saw the meteorological writing on the wall just then and made her exit. She’d been worried about the weather predictions coming true right away and rendering her rear-wheel drive pony car little more than a spinning top, but she needn’t have really been concerned for another few hours.
Then, around 6:00 or so, the snow never started falling. It was cold for sure, but nothing—despite the warnings from Johnny Mountain—like the giant Pacific storm that was promised.
Fast forward to Monday afternoon and from noon until 5:00 or 6:00 the next morning, we got a foot of snow. I know what you’re thinking right now (he really does. it’s weird. – ed). Big deal, right? People all over the country deal with this stuff all the time. This is Southern California, so it’s different.
Over the years, I’ve driven through conditions like those of Monday afternoon over and over, but I had no idea that nobody else had. Driving styles ranged from 20 MPH white knuckle terror to bald tire bravado.
Tuesday morning at 5:30, the county Zamboni drivers had worked their magic and made the highway positively glassy. We could’ve contested the Stanley Cup on the perfect surfaces they’d created except for the new snow blowing across the roadway. And the stalled cars abandoned where they landed in the middle of the road.
It’s harrowing, exciting, dangerous and beautiful all at the same time and that’s perhaps the allure of living here. Actual pictures of this Winter paradise to come.
Your pal,
– bob