Yesterday afternoon, I did a foolish thing. I tried to walk. With temperatures reaching into the 50s, I felt somewhat obligated to go outside and walk along my country road.
Normally, walking is a
cinch. Yesterday, however, our region
experienced something near constant winds of 35 to 45 mph with frequent gusts
reaching much higher speeds. According
to a local news report, Helena recorded gusts of 81 mph. Trees toppled over. Roofs were peeled off houses.
I began my walk pressing against
the wind, thinking the force might help push me back home once I turned. Apparently, I must have exited my house during
winds in the 35 to 45 mph range. “I can
handle this,” I thought. “Not so bad.”
About thirty paces from my
house, I stopped walking.
I didn’t try to stop. Instead, a tremendous gust virtually froze me
solid at mid-stride. I had to expend all
of my strength and balance to keep from tipping over backwards.
I can take a hint.
I know when it’s time to abandon
idea number one, head back to the house, and pour a wee dram of Scotch.
—Mitchell Hegman
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