Curtis Klingle

Leave it to the blasted news folks to attempt to make a fella’s life miserable. A few decades ago, the weather guys got together and devised a way to inject feelings into the weather. The heat index was birthed and people in Texas who had formerly been ignorant of how miserable Texas summers were received a truck load of awareness, that not only was it hot enough to boil your brains, it now felt like said brains had already been vaporized and one had been left with an empty cranium. Why it worked so well that these same malevolent creatures bearing the title of meteorologists, invented yet another method to bring doom and gloom into the world. I introduce you to the cold index.

The forecast for this morning was 18 degrees but it would feel like 8 degrees, (Fahrenheit folks. We don’t do that foreign Celsius crap around these parts). I walked out the door this morning, and embraced that initial blast of cold. I took in a deep breath inhaling the crispness of the air. Gazing at the ice and snow, I beheld the wonder of such a beautiful winter morning; nature had clothed herself in purity. It was yet dark and the skies were clear, and I was greeted by the twinkling of myriads of stars. All of the trees adorned with a sprinkling of snow, and a blanket of pure white covered the ground for as far as the eye could see. I had the sense that all was right in my little corner of the world.

I turned and checked the thermometer and saw that it was indeed the projected 18 degrees. I whispered a sarcastic thank you to all the weathermen out there for their unsolicited forthtelling and attempts to make us all miserable. I offered a heartfelt wave (forgetting to use all of my fingers, save one) to those modern sorcerers, and then let myself feel the beauty and peacefulness of this grand morning.

C. Klingle