Here’s an interesting factoid about Boulder weather–90 mph winds in December and January are surprisingly common.
The attached picture shows a bar chart of occurence of winds in a recent 35 year period (1967-2002). In the months of December and January, there have been 41 90-mph “Chinooks” in Boulder. Chinooks are warm, fast, steady winds from the west, usually after a snowfall. I had no idea there were so many of them. On our drives out there this coming December and January, we may have to batten down the hatches pretty tight. We’ll be driving into the wind, anyway, so we should be able to watch the flying tumbleweeds and two-by-fours as they come towards us.
I’ve got his prohibition thing going where I’m only allowed to post youtube videos once a week, but I’ve been dying to show you these two, so here
you go. The first is a music video of the song Sympathy For The Devil. Now, normally, I hate these things but this one is so well done, and I think you’ll like that first diner scene. The second is the same song but a live performance. Watch these guys at full strength and see why it’s so hard for me to cope with the fact that they are still on tour.
Where are you when we need you? Thought you might enjoy Jeffrey’s latest project. The YMCA half marathon is this w/e and the runners will come by our house on their last 2 miles. Jeffrey is hoping they’ll notice.
On the Columbia River near Vantage.
Washington, we fished for whitefish
in the winter months: my dad, Swede-
Mr. Lindgren – and me. They used belly-reels,
pencil-length sinkers, red, yellow, or brown
flies baited with maggots.
They wanted distance and went clear out there
to the edge of the riffle.
I fished near shore with a quill bobber and a cane pole.
My dad kept his maggots alive and warm
under his lower lip. Mr Lindgren didn’t drink.
I liked him better than my dad for a time.
He let me steer his car, teased me about my name “Junior,” and said
one day I’d grow into a fine man, remember
all this, and fish with my own son.
But my dad was right. I mean
he kept silent and looked into the river,
worked his tongue, like a thought, behind the bait.
