Today is another one of those blustery Northern Illinois spring days. High 40’s and windier than all get out. Yesterday, we had thunderstorms and wind. The day before, nice warm temperatures accompanied by a stiff wind. Wind, wind, wind.

I hate windy days. Wind makes me angry. When I was in college, I lived a good 15 minute bike-ride away from campus. I relied upon my bike to take me everywhere. Madison, with it’s four surrounding lakes, tends to be a windy place. So when I would bike to class, loaded down by a backpack filled with textbooks and notepads, I’d often find myself sparring against a strong headwind. I’d put my head down, and pedal as hard as I could. Just when I’d think my legs and my lungs could take no more, I’d look over at the students walking to class on the sidewalk. It was hard to tell who was moving at a faster pace. My quick Irish temper would ignite and a few choice words would escape my lips. “@#&%@ wind!”, I’d mutter.

Today’s wind is making me feel isolated and lonely, and I imagine how it must have been for women years ago on the frontier. They say many pioneer women went mad on account of the unceasing winds that whipped across the prairie. For today, at least, I can relate. And just like in the old movies, the latch on our porch door is broken, and so the door violently swings open and hits the porch railing…”Bam!” A second or two later it then slams shut…“Bam!” I half expect a tumbleweed to roll on by.

When I go out and call to the kids, my voice goes unheard. The wind carries it away. My trusty barrette that I rely upon daily to keep my hair out of my face is no match for the unrelenting gusts of air. The ground grain that I carefully poured into the feedbunk for the cattle was whipped into a whirling dustdevil that proceeded to attack me viciously. And I dare not lay down the bedding that I bought for the baby chicks that are to arrive tomorrow.

And so I am imprisoned. Idle. Locked in. All on accounts of this maddening wind.