Today’s wind is fierce.
TWC predicted wind gusts of 30 to 40 mph, again.
On campus the fir trees sway and rustle in the wind, making a lovely sound.
Downtown, the wind blows several UPS boxes down and around as the driver tries to pile them high on his service cart.
Out at the mailbox, I cradle the mail like a football, otherwise, the wind, just like a line baker, knocks it out of my hands and sends it flying...everywhere.
The black smudge is my camera strap flapping in the wind.
No mail slots in the doors, or mailboxes on the front porch, in our neighborhood.
Everyone has to visit these metal boxes to retrieve mail, which thankfully are next to our driveway, which means I get to shovel/clear a path to the boxes.
Sitting inside, in front of my laptop while the wind howls and whips around the house, I feel like one of the two pig brothers who chose to build with straw and twigs, instead of bricks.
I tell myself: I’m hardy.
I tell myself: I’ve survived the snow, the ice and the -35 below freezing temps.
I tell myself: at least the sun is shinning and it’s near 50 degrees today.
I tell myself: this is the life of a Frontier Woman, we of the dry skin, the chapped lips and the wind blown hair.
I guess I’m not “her,” yet.
TWC predicted wind gusts of 30 to 40 mph, again.
On campus the fir trees sway and rustle in the wind, making a lovely sound.
Downtown, the wind blows several UPS boxes down and around as the driver tries to pile them high on his service cart.
Out at the mailbox, I cradle the mail like a football, otherwise, the wind, just like a line baker, knocks it out of my hands and sends it flying...everywhere.
The black smudge is my camera strap flapping in the wind.
No mail slots in the doors, or mailboxes on the front porch, in our neighborhood.
Everyone has to visit these metal boxes to retrieve mail, which thankfully are next to our driveway, which means I get to shovel/clear a path to the boxes.
Sitting inside, in front of my laptop while the wind howls and whips around the house, I feel like one of the two pig brothers who chose to build with straw and twigs, instead of bricks.
I tell myself: I’m hardy.
I tell myself: I’ve survived the snow, the ice and the -35 below freezing temps.
I tell myself: at least the sun is shinning and it’s near 50 degrees today.
I tell myself: this is the life of a Frontier Woman, we of the dry skin, the chapped lips and the wind blown hair.
I guess I’m not “her,” yet.
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