The Unexpected Joys of a Clawfoot Tub in the High Sierra

Winter Delights on the Terrace

One particularly memorable winter, the Friday just before a major storm, my mother surprised us by bringing home an unexpected treasure: a clawfoot tub wedged in the back of her pickup truck. She playfully filled it with bags of groceries as we emerged to help unload, a fitting lead-in to a snowy weekend. Mom's knack for snagging discarded items had led her to various oddities, but this bathtub was something entirely new.

“What on earth are you gonna do with that?” my sister, Debbie, asked, eyes wide with skepticism.

“I’m gonna take a bath,” Mom replied with a mischievous grin.

Debbie would occasionally visit on weekends. She and Mom would share tasks: Mom chopping wood while Debbie stacked it. I once caught a glimpse of Mom crying, her face buried in one of Debbie's beloved T-shirts. It was a cozy scene of camaraderie, warmth, and the unique scents of the woman who preferred cloves and onions over a more conventional perfume.

When it came to moving the hefty tub, the two nearly dropped it during their efforts to strap it onto the wheelbarrow. Eventually, they placed it firmly on the terrace, just beneath a fireplace that had long since fallen out of use due to a chimney issue. I stood by, thinking of how Dad would have responded to this addition, recalling his remarks about previous impromptu acquisitions. Yet, Mom and Debbie shifted the subject to propane tank levels, leaving me to ponder the absence of Dad’s typical commentary.

As snow blanketed our surroundings, accumulating through the day and evening, our inquiries about school suspension drew laughter from Debbie. The playful atmosphere prevailed, with Debbie boiling up a pot of hearty three-bean chili, as Mom tried her hand at teaching us progressive rummy, which quickly devolved into rounds of crazy eights instead.

Finally, the storm abated and sunlight broke through. Despite the radiant day, there was an unmistakable chill in the air as we ventured outside for firewood. We were schooled on which woods served what purpose: kindling from pine, oak for extending warmth, and the prized stash of manzanita reserved for emergencies. Even with bright skies overhead, the harsh cold nipped at our lungs, the ponderosa trees cloaked in white capping a mystical landscape.

“Do you think this will be a bad winter?” I asked Debbie, my curiosity piqued by the weather’s unpredictability.

“Depends on what you like,” she replied, enigmatic yet practical.

Mom's Fearless Dip

When Mom declared it was time to put the tub to use, the excitement was palpable. She employed a hose connected to the kitchen sink, filling the tub halfway to warm the metal before draining some off to repeat the process. Balancing practicality with warmth, she covered the tub with a tarp and began boiling several kettlefuls of water, pouring it in as we all gathered in the kitchen, eagerly awaiting the spectacle.

Once the tub was sufficiently warm and steaming, she began shedding layers—all the clothing that shielded her from the winter chill, bringing laughter and the spirit of daring to our day. “Anyone feeling brave?” she called, as our collective response was a firm “No!”

Debbie placed a gentle hand on each of our shoulders, guiding us to the doorway window. We peered through as Mom unveiled the tub, pouring in the last of the hot water. The steam wafting up formed a warm embrace against the cold air surrounding us. With a cautious foot, she tested the water before plunging in completely, water splashing onto the flagstones and creating a moment of shimmering beauty.

I blurted out a concerned, “I hope she doesn’t get her hair wet,” but anticipating the unforeseen, I watched intently as she took a deep breath and fully submerged herself.

Minutes later, when she returned inside, her eyelashes were frosted with ice, and her hair crackled with the remnants of her icy dip. She dressed in the kitchen, glowing from the experience and exuding laughter as we helped her dry off. Concerned, we checked in on how she felt post-plunge.

“It was glorious,” she declared, a smile reflecting the delight of the moment, “Once in a lifetime.”

Debbie leaned in to kiss her neck, perhaps signifying that this tub was destined to be a source of many more cherished memories.

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