The Great December Norther of ‘89

Winters can be harsh out where the wind comes sweeping down the plain. There are stories aplenty of long hard cold spells when everything freezes and the snow piles up. But none of them match up to the great December norther of ‘89.

            The cold weather started out slow that year and it looked like it would be a mild season. Jake was a pumper for a big oil company out in the plains country and he was tickled pink. His little company house was situated near a particularly tall windmill that sat on the edge of a small well watered lake where a multitude  of ducks had settled. It was one of those idyllic spots about as close to an Eden as anybody can get.

            The norther blew in about noon that day and the temperature dropped like a rock. Next morning when Jake started out to check his wells he couldn’t believe his eyes. Those ducks’ feet were stuck in thick ice and the shadow of the windmill was actually frozen to the ground. When he expressed his surprise with his usual round of bad language it was so cold that the words coming out of his mouth froze and fell to the ground. He had no choice but to return to his little house, build up the fire, and wait the cold spell out.

            It stayed that way for several days before the temperature rose enough for Jake to  get out and check on things. Just as he opened his door the windmill shadow thawed out enough to spring into the air and slap against the mill and at the same time all his frozen cuss words thawed out. The commotion scared the ducks so that they took flight and soon disappeared over the horizon with the frozen lake attached to their feet.

            All this has to be true because the proof lies in the land itself. To this day that section of the plains is dotted with little waterless depressions that some call playa lakes while others say they are buffalo wallows.