Of Wind and Wine
We’ve already made it halfway through April, but life above the foothills is still stuck in winter.
Last week I wrote about the wind, and this week is a continuation because the winds have not died down.
Not only have they remained fierce, but the winter season refuses to let go of its frosty grip as the temperatures took a dip and a dusting of snow returned.
It's not unusual for snow to fall in April, and in fact, it's the second snowiest month for the state, so I welcome the snow, just not the wind.
These past few weeks have been a constant reminder of how the wind can turn the simplest chores into a pay-per-view event.
Days of Wind and Wine
Winds were whipping around like thunder for days. Tree's cracking, critters scurrying, and the wind serving up pain on just about everything.
And there I was, warm and cozy inside...until I wasn't.
Enjoying a glass of vintage boxed wine in front of the fireplace with a windy snowstorm nipping at your door is comfortable enough sometimes, but you would need the wine, and I left ours out in the truck.
So, I have no choice, and I need to retrieve that wine. It is what determines what my next few days will be like.
I bundled up, cracked open the front door, and the fight was on.
The sudden snap of wind hit me like a brick as I leaned in, knowing this would be brutal. I had to fight off the wind and everything that moved with it.
A sudden gust of wind whipped my head back, almost straightening my body, arms flailing as I struggled to regain my balance.
Head back down and moving forward, the truck was forty-fifty feet away, the box of wine forty-fifty two feet from my freezing fingers.
The sting of the wind pierced my uncovered face like a thousand tiny needles, and my body felt suddenly fatigued.
Pinecones were flying at my body, passing squirrels flying by my head, and chipmunks by the dozens hurling past me in this fiery battle for the wine.
I turned and yelled at Ann for help, but the winds were too loud.
I yelled at our Chihuahua for no apparent reason, but as Chihuahuas often do, she was too busy yapping at nothing in particular to understand my peril.
I was my own.
Head tucked down, arms and hands leaning forward to the truck, fighting against this horrific wind. So close. Fight, damn it...fight!
I fought off the falling branches, fought off the howling winds, and fought off the non-caring thoughts of Ann while I advanced towards the truck.
The door handle was just a few feet away, then inches.
The door flew open with a thrust as my fingers hung on the edge of the door. I held strong keeping the door from flying off its hinges while I reached inside for that vintage box of Sunset blush.
The battle for the wine that seemed epic to me, mildly entertaining to the neighbors, and oblivious to Ann, was only halfway through.
I still had to make my way back, wine in hand, and head down with focus.
I fought my way back into the cabin and fell through the front door, only to find the fireplace crackling, Ann nibbling on popcorn, watching her hallmark channel with the little yapping dog, quietly curled up next to her.
Thanks for listening. Cheers!
Cold winds and the continued dusting of snow are leaving us to roll the dice if we need to get into town.
Icy roads in the mornings and high winds throughout the days have been the norm for the past few weeks.
I doubt we will be above freezing today, but the stories and photos will flow when the weather starts feeling more like spring.
Photo of the week:
This pretty lady walked through the property during a lull in the winds yesterday and was kind enough to pose for a photo.
She was with a small herd that wandered by on their way to finding shelter, and I’m sure that we’ll see them again before long.
Thank you again for dropping by Mountain Town Tales, and I hope to see you again each Thursday before high-noon, Mountain time.