It has been windy all night, 30-40 mph windy, with snow drifting up in great piles at the foot of our sloping driveway and around the corner on the north side of the house. Cozy and warm, inside, I do not mind except for the fact that we are to haul a bunch of plastic 10 gallon containers of our worldly posessions over to the storage place.

It's nothing new to us, having lived for years 15 miles out of town where it gets even worse, but it is just so Wyoming at just the wrong time, which makes it even more typical. Mother Nature seems to vent a lot here.

I hear the wind, scrambling its fingers around the corners of the house, prying at the windows and front door, skimming across the landscape in a frantic search for any obstacle to pile the snow up against, to obscure, leaving indistinct humps, drifting oddly shaped additions to houses along the way, designed by some mad architect of random plans.

After loading the bed of the truck, which thankfully is in the garage, we both bundle up and head out. Merlee, the Border Collie balances his front feet on the back of our seat, with his rear feet carefully placed on the back of the jump seat behind us. He peers ahead just as a scout of pioneer days may have done or the fellow who rode shotgun on the stagecoaches.

When Rog has the storage unit door rolled up, I open my door to get out. The wind whips it from my hand. I step out and down and instantly feel as though I have no clothes on between me and the 15-10 below zero windchill factor. I am instantly transported back to the early days of our marriage out on our little ranch on the Old Oregon Trail. It only takes an instant for me to be chilled literally to the bone, as someone who's just been dipped in the icy waters of the Arctic. Just long enough for me to growl at Rog, "Remind me of this if I ever say I wish we were back out on the ranch!"

It was scary and life-threatening then, but seemed like such a lark, making out like modern-day pioneers, snowshoeing in when it got really bad; hauling our own water; the last year spent with only a wood stove for heat; being snowbound and bringing the horse into the house to save him from the weather.

Today has been enough of a reminder that I shall not long for those days again anytime soon. I hope the weather predictors are correct when they say we will have a veritable heat wave this next week, reaching clear up into the 40's! Once the move is over I won't mind the other so much, but 40's is looking really good for the week of our actual move!

BTW, promise you'll not have to suffer any more moving TFTDs after this one. Thanks for listening!**BG**

kat