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Lloyd, an old skateboarding acquaintance from South Florida, just messaged me on Instagram asking if I live in Oregon. Yessir, I confirmed, and volunteered which part I live in. (Unrelated: Lloyd is such a great name. It has that double L, in case you missed one.) He wrote back saying that his girlfriend wants to visit, but he’s guessing December is not the best time.

I’d guess not also, unless they were coming to snowboard or ski, but I’m guessing that was not the case. He already had the gist, but I mansplained anyway the weather in the coastal, valley and Portland portions of the state — which is way easier than summing up winter in Central Oregon, with its micro-climates and frequent rain in the southern points of Deschutes County, when points to the north are equally deserving, and also in need, of rain.

How do you even begin to sum this place up for those who’ve never been to the eastern edge of the Cascades, and also on the edge of the High Desert, at an elevation of about 3,600 feet in Bend?

Friday was a sunny, 60-something day in November of (f)all months, after a week that began dark and gloomy, you’d be wise to lean into it and try, somehow, to live more fully in the moment of warmth and sunshine. Soon enough, a dark and dismal winter is going to ensue. Not everyone feels the same about winter. Some are looking forward to the predicted La Nina. I recently met a newer friend’s wife, and when we talked about the short days of winter, she said she was looking forward to the dark. Not the short days or cold nights, but dark. And I know what she means.

Getting used to November’s dark took some effort after I moved to Bend 23 years ago. I boarded my first plane in a post-9/11 world and flew out to visit and be interviewed during a gorgeous stretch of late-September weather. After being offered the job, I had a few weeks to give notice and finish up at my old one, plus a few days to pack and five or six more to drive myself across the country in my Mitsubishi light pickup. I managed to stay with relatives in Georgia, Illinois, Iowa, and Nebraska, where I had a flat and coasted into Lincoln on a football game day, and there was a tire store right at the exit.

By the time I reached the High Desert, I began to question my sanity, to be honest. My September visit hadn’t taken me very far east of Pilot Butte, and I was not ready for the wide-open expanse of the desert between here and Boise. Extricating me from the truck’s small cab took some effort. I didn’t have the money for a massage, but I was only in my early 30s.

Nov. 5 was my first day at The Bulletin, which I usually recognize with a thought and mentions to people who don’t have much response. My family, then just my wife and my oldest daughter, had finished up in Tampa and driven to Illinois to stay with my in-laws while I forged ahead. After a few days staying at then-Phoenix Inn, and considering Redmond as our home, I found us a duplex apartment on Purcell Boulevard, in the shadow of Pilot Butte.

It felt like winter arrived the same day the moving truck delivered our stuff. It was damp and cold and it started sleeting. The workers’ arrival after seeing my Florida home somehow felt like my last geographic connection there. And then they got out of there, worried about roads freezing.

Even if someone had told me winters could feel six months long here, I probably wouldn’t have believed them. At the time, I had a first cousin here, “Chopper” Dave Jasper (because he rode Harleys), who told me that, yeah, winters are long, but it’s not that bad. It can be sunny and in the 50s in Bend while it’s snowing at Mount Bachelor.

I got to know what he meant, but I don’t know that it happens very often.

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The climate has grown on me, or at least I learned about layering and fibers that wick. I embrace the sunny cold days, and those moments I find to stand in the sunlight for a few minutes. I think I’ve always been like this, because I’ve twice had skin cancer — which included two MOHS surgeries on my face at ages 33 and 37. Who doesn’t worship the sun a bit? If I were forced to join a religion, it would have to be one that worships the sun.

I took part of the morning Friday to skate during what felt like the last of the sunshine. Some of the friendliest skateboarders in Bend assemble like four-wheeled Avengers throughout the morning at Rockridge Skatepark in Northeast Bend. Some of these guys manage to skate there every day. I don’t know if it’s inherited wealth or saintly spouses. Maybe lawsuit victories? A patent they sold? That’s their business. I am just an early bird who breezes through when weather conditions are good.

I’ll continue to grab these moments in the sun before things truly get cold and dark. And once the darkness hits, I have a pile of books to read, a list of movies to watch, a skateboard to ride weather permitting and word games on my phone something compels me to play like a robot each day. Oh, and cross-country skis to dust off. It’s going to be just fine!

You can email me below to share your thoughts and predictions about the winter ahead, and what books and movies I should add to my list for combatting the dark ahead. You could also tell me when you think Lloyd should visit Oregon.