Brass Monkey Alert!

Forty-four degrees in September??!!

I woke to a chilly reminder of the real possibility of Fall a couple of mornings ago and didn't care for it at all.  The ninth month is usually our nicest here in the Inland Northwest.  Eastern Washington, the Idaho panhandle and western Montana generally have lots of sunshine with highs in the 70's accompanied by night temps in the 50's.  Perfect.

So far this year brought us a cool and wet June followed by a pretty decent July and August, though we did have some forest fire smoke during the latter.  Now, with September half shot, there is the very real temptation to abandon all hope of a mild winter.  The signs are everywhere: brisk temperatures, trees turning crimson and gold around the edges of the lake, fat squirrels and the hours of daylight diminishing faster than a bag of Cheetos at fat camp. 

Being a mere "senior" white male, nature's most endangered species, I thought it a good idea to arm myself with expert weather knowledge to prepare for the coming cold season.  I donned a sweater and made for the Coeur D Alene city park to be amongst my little squirrel pals.  ( I often bring them peanuts, so they owe me.)

In no time I was surrounded by some of the park's real heavyweights, and I do mean HEAVYWEIGHTS.  Fat Sal, Stinky and Roberta comprised the committee chosen to speak with me and here is the gist of that conversation as best I can recall.  (They may have slipped me something in the that funny looking acorn.)

Me: "So what's the deal, guys? How come the cold weather?"

Fat Sal: "So who wants to know?"

Me:  "Ah, nobody.  I'm just asking for a friend."

Sal:  "Well tell your friend to get ready for a rough winter.  This baby is gonna be so cold you'll be farting snowflakes in July."

Me: "Sounds like air conditioning. Is that why all of you are so freaking fat?"

Roberta:  "I'd take a good look at that spare tire you're sporting Sparky before insinuating that maybe we could stand to lose a couple."

Fat Sal, squirrel cappo

Stinky

Me: "Point taken."

Stinky:  "Yeah, we think it's gonna be a cold one, colder than January in Moose Munch, Maine. That's why we've pumped up the fun fat and grabbed our furs out of storage.  Of course we're still too damn dumb to remember where we stashed all the nuts.  Where is that Kreskin guy when you need him?"

Roberta:  "This winter is gonna be harder than grandma's biscuits."

Me:  "Okay, I get it.  Time to nut up and get ready for an icy blast up our skirts in a few short weeks."

Roberta

Fat Sal:  "Yeah, that's what we've been sayin'. By the way...you wouldn't be lookin' for some candy ass warm spot where you can hang for next couple of months would ya?"

Me:  "Fake news!"