Whiskey, Prozac and La Niña
Before winter even began, those that get paid to predict the weather were telling us that another La Niña event was imminent. Great—just what I wanted to hear. La Niña is a cold-hearted bitch. Last winter, she imposed her will upon us (those that inhabit the western US). She took us into her icy grip, applied a choke hold, and refused to let go. Winter turned into Spring without changing much at all. It seemed to go on forever, which wouldn’t have been so bad if I’d been able to get out and chase fish. But another biproduct of the winter was an extended Spring runoff that pushed well into summer. Good for fish, bad for fishing. So, yes, when they told me we were in for another La Niña winter, I made sure I had an adequate supply of medicine on hand.
Lo and behold, winter got off to a lazy start, unlike last year when we had a cold snap and snow before Thanksgiving. This year appeared to be a piece of cake as we breezed through December with mild temps and modoerate precipitation. Even into the New Year, things were mild and manageable. From my office I often gazed outside and thought to myself, “This isn’t so bad. I can do this.” Sometimes I even went outside. “Pleasant” comes to mind, particularly one week that seems so long ago.
And then she arrived. The Bitch herself. She dumped snow, then more. She forced me to buy new tires for Mrs. UA’s Exploder. She blew out rivers. She flooded roads. She convinced a ground hog to declare 6 more weeks of winter. Damn her. Fortunately I was distracted by work. But after a while of that, well—you know.
It’s going to be a while before she’s gone. I need to go fishing, clearly.