Wind

    As I sit here this evening, I can hear the wind roaring outside. A flick over to the National Weather Service site tells me the wind is blowing 29 miles per hour with gusts up to 40. I’m glad I’m not in a tent tonight.
     Wind is just one more weather condition, one more way to experience the elements, but of all nature’s forces, wind is the one that can seem malevolent at times. Or at the very least, cranky. Wind will set your tarp to flapping in a canoe country camp. It’ll threaten to take your tent apart, and some nights it might. It will drive snow into a ground blizzard that’ll force you to make camp because you can’t see where you’re going. It’ll drive rain into your face so hard you’d swear it was rice. And it’ll rile a lake into something that looks like moving meringue.
     But, of course, wind has no attitude. Like rain and snow and sunshine, it just is. It’s there for some meteorological reason we may or may not understand. It intends no harm.
     When big wind comes with temperatures of 15 below zero, as it is tonight, I don’t mind being inside. My son is strumming on his guitar. The radiators are kicking out heat. Life is good.
     Somewhere out on the trail of the John Beargrease Sled Dog Marathon, the lead mushers are driving through this daunting night toward Duluth. I try to imagine what that must be like, but I fail to come up with a reasonable estimate. Those dog drivers, and those dogs, are tougher than most of us know.