Cold Front

I've returned to the north, to my Fortress of Solitude.  Not much solitude around here this evening, however; there's a family event this weekend (that I'll write about tomorrow) that has brought both of my sisters and their families "home".  So the house is full and lively and it's great....but it's not very peaceful.

So to find some moments of peace I went for a walk through the fields after supper.  Took a .243 rifle with me, just in case I were to come under siege from crazed coyotes or nefarious beaver.  As if on cue, as soon as I got far enough away from the house to be too far for a quick return the rain started to fall.  Just a light sprinkle, more of a nuisance than anything, but wet nonetheless.  It hadn't rained here all week, wasn't supposed to rain until late tonight, and according to the forecast it was supposed to be sunny with temps in the 80s, not overcast and windy with temps near 70.  There was only one explanation for this disagreeable turn of weather events - Cold Front Lukey had worked his magic.

Around the time I graduated high school, a little over 25 years ago, I had a string of unproductive and unpleasant fishing trips.  By "string" I mean "giant ball of twine".  For several summers it seemed like every time I fished - didn't matter where, didn't matter with whom - either A) the fish bit poorly, B) the weather turned awful, C) both of the above happened.  Most of the trips were with my grandpa, but I also fished with a good friend of mine quite a bit.  Small town life being what it is, Fishing Partner A would often cross paths with Fishing Partner B, and if fishing became the topic of conversation they were sure to point out that one or the other had been fishing with me and done poorly.  Again.  It wasn't long before the (former!) good friend took to comparing me to a walking cold front.......my grandpa usually called me Lukey......so thus, Cold Front Lukey became a staple of the local vernacular.

And you know, they may have been right.  Perhaps it's a case of looking too hard for something that isn't there, maybe it's a self-fulfilling prophecy.....but man oh man do I have bad luck with weather.  Not 100% bad luck, but often enough to make me think I am just a little bit cursed.  If the weather is supposed to be crummy when I come here, it is.  If the weather is supposed to be nice, it's crummy.  Rarely do I come this direction and find that a beautiful day has taken the place of a lousy forecast.  Tonight I'm not complaining (much) 'cause I'd take cloudy and 70 degrees over sunny and 80 any day....but the timing of the rain was just a little too suspicious.

My grandpa has been gone for 13 years now, but I swear I could hear his cackling laughter on the winds as I walked through the fields, and between the cackles his "There he is, Cold Front Lukey strikes again!" line that got used far too often.  A line I miss hearing.  A lot.  Seems a little unfair that I still have to carry the title when I can't enjoy time with the guy who gave it to me.  Life stinks sometimes.