Grand Junction Weather Versus "The Permanent Low"

Here I sit, the Grand Junction, Colorado ex-pat, living in upstate New York, watching another winter turn final approach for a landing in my back yard. It's been a very mild fall, so far. But the tentative little cold fronts which come knocking every so often are an ominous reminder of what is to come. Most of the leaves and giant falling walnuts are down in my yard, and a cold rain has been predicted for tonight. Time for the red dog and me to hunker down on the couch with a fleece throw and a bowl of popcorn to watch an old movie. Hmm. Reminds me of a scene from the book.

The generally lovely autumn weather in Grand Junction cannot be mentioned in the same breath as fall in upstate New York, when we begin to see the influence of a habitual weather system camping between here and Lake Ontario which I have nicknamed "the permanent low." However, there are occasional exceptions to Junction's fortunate weather. I wrote about one in the aforementioned scene from Remover of Obstacles, Chapter 9.

Jude and her two beloved dogs, Rachel and Decker--a Pit Bull and a Doberman, respectively, are riding with her on the way home from work and grocery shopping.

The early evening was shaping up to be just flat nasty tonight, though, as the dogs and I motored toward home. …The rain had been coming down heavily for a while now and the wind was lashing big drops against my windshield. A few branches were down here and there—might lose power tonight, I mused, dodging a giant tumbleweed. The huge puddles made me fear for all the people who lived up unpaved canyon roads, where this much rain could touch off dangerous mudslides. It almost seemed cold enough for wet snow, too. Geez, it was only October.

I was glad to pull into my small garage, but I figured I should give the dogs a brief potty break before we went inside for supper. …I took them no farther than the adjacent weed-grown lot where they completed their mission in record time. They fully understand the concept of sooner done, sooner inside.

I let them run back into the garage where they proceeded to shake as if they were trying to dislodge nuclear fallout. I remoted the garage door down and followed them to the kitchen door. Decker fairly fell into the kitchen as I unlocked and opened the door, Rachel right behind him. Such brave souls.

“You guys will not be very effective guard dogs if the burglars bring squirt guns.” I reached for a handful of paper towels and began to dry them off, a practice of which they highly approve.

“And did I mention that you two smell just lovely? I can’t believe I’m trapped here with you all night.” I grinned foolishly. I love my dogs and I love my little home.

“Beds!” I called, tossing two dog biscuits in the general direction of the living room. The treats barely touched the floor as they were scooped up immediately and spirited away to doggie lairs.

In a rare moment of organization last week, I had collected a small bundle of kindling, some split logs, and those long fireplace matches—all from the supermarket. I dug these out of a cupboard and looked around the living room. An unexpectedly fortuitous result of my limited housekeeping skills, last week’s Sunday paper still lay on the coffee table, thus completing the necessary incendiary ingredients for a fire in the stove.

“All right, doggies, we’ll have a warm home tonight.” Already napping in her bed, Rachel raised a pink nose and sniffed delicately. I interpreted this as an inquiry as to when supper could be expected. Decker, even more tightly curled in his bed, merely cocked one brown eye, then stuck his nose under a paw. They looked a little chilly, I thought, immediately sympathetic. Lately I’d been leaving the heat turned way down when I was at work, and the condo had a serious chill going. The rain splattering the windows didn’t help, either. I began to load the stove.

Soon, snapping kindling gave way to a dull roaring up the chimney and the glass window on the stove glowed merrily. I had bought a fragrant balsam candle in Jasmine’s shop which I lit and set on a small wall shelf I’d recently hung for this purpose. Not exactly a fancy sconce arrangement, but it was actually rather impressive for me. Besides, as the wooden plaque in my kitchen proclaims, “Martha Stewart doesn’t live here.” I completed the cozy scene by dropping the Japanese rice paper blinds against the growing darkness. The living room glowed with a soft golden light.

      Not ten minutes had passed before I was outfitted in my old college sweats and comfortably ensconced on the “lazy couch” with a cup of green tea and flanked by both dogs who were squeezing me in a doggie vise. The stove was burning evenly, the pasta bubbled happily on the stove, the TV was muted on the news as I skimmed the newspaper, and an old fleece throw covered my legs which were propped up on the coffee table. An inviting smell of balsam floated through the air. It was the perfect night to stay home, put any worries about my business aside, and really relax in my safe haven. Tension melted out of my spine until all my muscles and joints felt loose. Jude the Rag Doll. It was a rare feeling.

                                                                            --Remover of Obstacles, Chapter 9