Yes, we have no bananas, no bananas today

I woke up Monday morning recalling that old, old song with the refrain: “Yes, we have no bananas; We have no bananas today.”

That’s because I went to bed Sunday night with about 10 inches of snow on the ground, the wind howling and more snow falling sideways. Then I woke up in the middle of the night, heard the wind still howling and pulled the covers up over my ears.

I don’t know how much snow there is outside, but it’s enough to disqualify Yakima, at least temporarily, as the Palm Springs of Washington and the Yakima Valley as the Banana Belt.

Yes, this is – was – the Banana Belt. We’re so proud of our 300 days of sunshine each year, even when it’s 110 degrees, that we refer to our special part of the country as the Banana Belt.

Sunnyside has a Banana Belt Golf Tournament. College and high school teams in western Washington schedule early season games here to avoid rainouts.

When Mom and Dad came to the Valley in 1943 from Montana, they thought they’d found “paradise” that winter when the temperatures rose to the 50s and sometimes 60s.

Pat and I drove up to Moses Lake Saturday evening for a New Year’s Eve gathering at sister Jenny and brother-in-law Tom’s house. Tom’s brother Rudy and his wife Lottie were there. So were brother Bob and his wife Vicki.

We played Diminishing Rummy, Catchphrase and Things. I was drinking a Pepsi and didn’t do well in Things. Things go better with Coke.

Catchphrase was played without rules. It’s a riot that way.

We drove up the freeway to Ellensburg and then east to Moses Lake. The road was clear, not a sign of snow. Sunday morning Tom said it was going to snow three to five inches that afternoon.

Pat and I saddled up and headed home at 10:30 and took the Royal City-Mattawa-Sunnyside route to avoid the snow. We didn’t make it. It was snowing slightly as we left. It really came on after we crossed the Columbia at Vernita.

I don’t think Pat saw the snow. She barreled on at 55 miles per hour. I cowered in the passenger seat. She finally slowed to 45, then 35 as we went up the grade toward the Hanford gate.

“I’m going to get home safely,” she said.

Actually, she slowed because other vehicles blocked her. At one point, on the final stretch to Sunnyside, there was a Jeep in front of us that slipped side-to-side several times. We didn’t. Pat held her course all the way home.

I drive this route once or twice a week and love the beauty of it. Sunday, going up the grade to the top of the Rattlesnake Mountains, I realized there is a much different view from the passenger seat.

Every stretch that didn’t have a guard rail ran along a deep ravine that looked more like a canyon. I started praying. Then I saw the canyons that did have guard rails.

We finally pulled into our driveway, with five new inches of snow, and Pat said, “See, you didn’t have to worry. I’m a good driver.”

Yes, she is. I’m just a big chicken when I’m not behind the wheel.

Still, I hope the Banana Belt returns next year.