It feels like we’ve had this same wild wind for half my life. At the end of February, the ice on the Frenchman River broke up. In early March, some unusual early warm temperatures looked like spring. But this is Saskatchewan and spring means uncertainty, a roller coaster of weather, and this year, too many gusts. For a month there have been daily winds at around 50 km/30mph or worse, with bad days at 70 km/45 mph. Walking into a wind like that is like walking into a moving car. And it’s cold, blowing from what feels like the arctic. By the end of the day I’m weary from fighting it, even if I’ve barely left the house.
But the problem with weariness is you can begin to expect it. I hear that sound in the trees and the roof and I’m already sure I can’t cope. I can’t fight it, I can’t move forward in it, and I don’t want to try.
How can anything happen if I won’t even try?
Today turned out different. The wind still blew, but gusts to 40 km, not 70. The morning began well below freezing, but the sun shone and eventually some warmth seeped into the kitchen. A friend asked me to go for a walk.
A walk? In this? Are you kidding? Well, maybe. Maybe this is what could happen.
Probably the long sweater and the down vest and the wool duffel coat and the scarf, mitts and winter hat weren’t all necessary. But they, along with the promise of companionship, got me out there. Shelter from the wind shows up in many different ways. And as usual, it was better to try.
Maybe next time I can find shelter in just trying, and try again.
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