Thursday, February 23, 2012

Don't Ask

Unlike most of the state, Worland is spared much wind in the winter months, but today is a blustery exception. Other Wyomingites, particularly those poor souls in Casper and Cheyenne, spend most of fall, winter, and spring chasing hats and mail, hanging on for dear life to car doors and steering wheels, and leaning.

Yes, it’s nigh unto impossible to walk in Wyoming wind lest one leans. Since windspeed varies by the second, lean-walking is both science and athletic endeavor. One has to anticipate impending gusts (or lulls) by listening for the wind decibels in trees or against buildings, then adjust one’s degree of lean at just the precise moment in order to proceed with any amount of dignity and forward progress. There’s an old joke about our climate that’s more truth than humor: “If the wind ever stops blowing in Wyoming, everyone falls down.”

It’s not just the chasing, hanging on, and leaning that wears on the psyche—it’s the howling. Unless one is a coyote, wolf, or werewolf, the constant chorus of unharmonized shrieks and moans is hardly music to the ears.

Speaking of music and wind: remember that old Bob Dylan tune? The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind; the answer is blowin’ in the wind. I can’t prove it, but I think folks in Wyoming are just asking way too many questions!

“And He arose and rebuked the wind and said to the sea, Hush now! Be still (muzzled)! And the wind ceased…and there was [immediately] a great calm.” MARK 4:39 (Amp)

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