How’s the Weather?

Bill pushed open the screen door of Harlan’s Feed & Supply, and the bell gave its usual tired jingle. The smell of molasses, leather, and dust drifted through the store like an old friend that never knew when to leave.

Joe was already at the counter, inspecting a bag of chicken scratch with a seriousness usually reserved for gold prospectors and tax auditors.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Joe said. “If it ain’t Bill Thompson. You still breathing after all them dry spells we been through?”

“Still kickin’,” Bill replied. “Though I make noises gettin’ out of a chair nowadays. Sound like a mule trying to start on a cold morning.”

Joe laughed. “How’s the missus?”

“Mean as a cornered badger and twice as stubborn.”

“Good. Hate to hear folks changin’ their habits.”

“You grabbin’ that same sweet feed for your horses?”

“Yep. And a sack of layer pellets. Chickens eat better than I do.”

Harlan slowly rang up a customer while the two men leaned against the counter.

After a moment, Joe asked, “You been keepin’ an eye on the skies lately?”

“Hard not to,” Bill said. “Whole world’s actin’ like it can’t decide what season it wants to be.”

“Ain’t that the truth. That big front over in the Middle East looked like it was fixin’ to turn into one heck of a thunderstorm.”

“Sure did. Israel and Iran throwin’ lightning at each other like two storm clouds in a bad mood.”

“Thought we’d be seein’ baseball-sized hail before it was over.”

“So did I. Then the pressure started changin’. Folks started talkin’ about lettin’ the storm blow itself out.”

Joe nodded. “Still got some thunder rumblin’ around, but maybe the worst of it’s driftin’ off.”

“That’s my read.”

Harlan glanced up. “You boys talkin’ weather already?”

“Just tryin’ to stay informed,” Bill said.

Joe scratched his chin. “Heard about that helicopter that went down near Hormuz?”

“Yep. Crew got picked up, thank the Lord.”

“Good thing. Enough rough weather over there without droppin’ aircraft into it.”

Joe paused, then shook his head. “Man-made storms are bad enough. Now the ground itself is gettin’ restless. You hear about that earthquake over in the Philippines?”

“Lord, heard that was quite the shaker.”

“Ground rolled like a wagon wheel with a broken hub. And Cuba got rattled too.”

“Earth’s got the jitters lately,” Bill said.

Joe gave a low chuckle. “Guess the political weather ain’t much steadier.”

“Ukraine’s still tossin’ lightning into Russian oil depots.”

“China and North Korea seem to be driftin’ together.”

“Even the Pope’s travelin’ around talkin’ about all these people movin’ from one place to another.”

“Everybody’s movin’,” Bill said. “Nobody seems content to stay where they are.”

Harlan handed a customer a receipt. “Sounds less like weather and more like gossip.”

“Weather is gossip,” Joe said. “It’s just gossip with maps.”

Bill laughed. “That’s about right.”

The conversation drifted along.

“Economy’s still got a little sunshine in it,” Joe said.

“Jobs seem steady.”

“But folks still complain.”

“People’ll complain if you hand ’em a sack of gold.”

“They’d say it was too heavy.”

“They’d ask why it wasn’t silver.”

Joe grinned. “And if it were silver, they’d wonder who got the gold.”

“That’s human nature.”

Harlan snorted. “Most accurate thing said all day.”

Joe leaned on the counter. “Heard there was booing at that basketball game the President attended.”

“There’s booing at every basketball game.”

“True enough.”

“Nowadays folks treat politics like sports and sports like politics.”

“And nobody’s happy with either one.”

“That keeps the conversation lively.”

Joe picked up his feed sack. “Out here we’ve got enough weather of our own.”

“Apartment fires.”

“Traffic wrecks.”

“Wildfire warnings.”

“Utility bills.”

“Now them utility bills are severe weather.”

“Natural disaster,” Joe agreed.

“Man opens his electric bill and immediately starts prayin’ for federal assistance.”

Harlan laughed despite himself. “That’s the first sensible thing I’ve heard this morning.”

The three men stood quietly for a moment.

Finally, Joe said, “World just keeps spinnin’, don’t it?”

“Sure does.”

“One day clear skies.”

“Next day tornado warnings.”

“Then sunshine again.”

Bill hoisted his sack onto his shoulder. “Forty years we’ve been standin’ around talkin’ weather.”

Joe nodded. “And somehow we never run out of it.”

“World keeps makin’ more.”

The two men started for the door.

Joe stopped and looked back. “See you next time the barometer drops.”

Bill grinned. “At our age, Joe, the barometer drops every mornin’ when we get out of bed.”

Even Harlan laughed at that one.

The screen door jingled behind them as they stepped out into the Nevada sun, leaving the weather inside for somebody else to worry about, or, failing that, to talk about.