I melted snow water in a lard pail. I don’t think hot coffee ever hit the spot more than it did on that night of the Arctic blizzard.”
–Richard P. Hobson, Jr. (Nothing Too Good for a Cowboy)
“It’s a fact that you’re gettin’ older, man don’t it seem like the winter’s are colder?” Come in, Pard, yur cup’s on the table, an’ the coffee’s on the stove. I was just thinkin’ of that song by that buckaroo Dan Roberts. Not shor but think it was wrote by G.C. Galvin. Gettin’ older, that’s a pure fact. The winters are colder, I reckon not, but the old bones might be thinkin’ they are. No ten below zero here, but it don’t take much to knock out the electricity. Don’t be frettin’ ’bout us Pard, the Missus and I are ready. The campstove is ready to warm up some beans and keep the coffee goin’.
Guess there’s just too many people, much of them don’t have no common sense, an’ the grid can’t keep up. Course yuh never know, those weathermen are paid to lie. Don’t take too much stock in them, but on the other hand it’s better to be safe than sorry. In fact, Annie made a pie today so we can be ready for the icy weekend. Problem is it won’t last until Sunday. When I lived up in the northern lands I kept a sleepin’ bag in the ol’ steel mount, along with a sterno stove, a pan, coffee and tea. Most of the time there was a pack of bouillon needed. Usually a shovel, and a few other odds an’ ends. Better to be prepared than frozen. Knew an ol’ boy who got caught in a blizzard in eastern Colorado. He had to pull off the road, but he was prepared. When he woke the next mornin’ the snow had covered his car. Course now’days they close the roads.
Pard, as yuh guzzle that hot coffee, I’m a-thinkin’ of those up in the cold. It’s one thing to sit by the fire and listen to that cold norther blow, and entirely another to have to be out in it. Those chilly fingers of freezing temperatures slowly strangle the warmth from the body. Then ol’ Jack London’s story, “To Build a Fire” comes to mind. Folks if’n yur not prepared, an’ then like in that story even sometime if’n yuh are things happen an’ the results can be catastrophic.
“Nother cup? Shor ‘nough, an’ if’n we finish this pot, I can jist make another one. That’s part of preparin’ for the cold. Go ‘head drink all yuh want. The cold outside, and folk bustlin’ ’round in a frantic makes me think of the words that people will pray for the rocks to fall on them. They are frantic, the world is in complete chaos an’ the judgment of the Lord is upon it. Too late to get prepared, and they don’t know what to do, and Pard, think of it–they pray to an idol, the rocks. I’m glad that the inner soul is warmed by the Holy Spirit. He is like a fire that brings soothin’ warmth to a cold spirit, similar to a warm fire and a cup of coffee to the body that has been out too long in the cold. Pard, if’n yuh know someone who’s out in the freezin’ wasteland, tell them to not wait too long to come in to the “fire” and warm the body and soul.
Yuh better get on yur way. Double check to make shor that yur set for the winter cold blast. Then I guess if the electricity goes out, we’ll jist hunker down under some quilts. Yuh be safe, an’ be careful. At least I know yuh won’t be out ridin’ so I won’t be worryin’ ’bout yuh checkin’ yur cinch.
Vaya con Dios.