Tuesday Twitterdeeblowyeewindsblow

We were almost blown away yesterday but not quite.  We got everything promised in the weather forecast and more.  I heard one prognosticator say the day before that we would have rain and wind on Monday but that the wind would be the main event.  Sounded okay to me.

It was okay until  I arose yesterday morning and saw all the water that had dropped from the skies overnight.  The garden I rototilled for the first time last week had turned into a lake.  We had the River of Love, and Heather Horse took one look outside and did a wheely on me at the barn door.

I had to drag her out the door, and I didn't blame her. 

It was a day for any sane soul to sleep through, but not all of us are sane.  When the winds came, it turned into a "switch gears" day.  

Bundle up and make sure you have a hat on cuz your hair is gonna attack you in the face with every gust.  Head outside.  Let the dogs out.  Rush around and get a few things done and be ready to run to the house when the next grayish black cloud comes rolling over Schweitzer. Shut the dogs back into the garage and do whatever there is to do inside.

I followed that same routine several times yesterday.  

At one point, I let defiance lead me on.  Leaving the dogs locked up, I raced from the sliding glass door to the car, started the motor, turned on the heat and the wipers and headed down Selle Road toward the Flower Farm.

Funny, the parking lot was nearly empty.  I was the only customer, and when I saw the "closed" sign on the Flower Farm barn, I figured that even the owners knew this business day was in vain.  Walking closer, though, a big man with an unfamiliar face greeted me.  

He said the crew was so busy giving instructions to the new kid on the block that they forgot to turn the "closed" sign to "open."  He was the new kid on the block----Patrick Joyce, I believe.  I saw other folks there working amidst the rattling walls but no other customers.

I told 'em that my plan was to stand in this awful weather, defy it and prepare my mother's window planter for spring.  After all, it's somewhat protected from the elements.  After purchasing some petunias, zinnias and more pansies, I drove to Mother's.  

The storm did not let up, nor did I.   It didn't take long to clean out the planter and plop in the petunias, following by a couple of big pitchers of water.  All that blowing rain was not even landing in her planter, which was bone dry.  

After visiting with Mother, I went on my way and returned to the "in one minute, out the next" cycle.  All was well for the "in" part cuz I could watch TV or play on the Internet.

Then, the electricity went off.  

It was off for more than three hours.  I learned later, while using a trip to town to avoid the wrath of the storm, that a power pole broke on Selle Road and the power lines had gone across the road.  I'm sure the cyclic mini-hurricanes that came throughout the afternoon did not help the Northern Lights linemen in their heroic efforts to restore electricity.  

Those folks should rank high on the list of heroes cuz they risk their lives in the absolute worst of conditions.  So, thanks, Northern Lights guys, for getting our power back on as quickly as you did.

The storm continued on throughout the day, and I did manage a few mini-projects in between mini hurricanes. 

I can hear gusts out there again this morning as I type, but nothing---rain, sleet, hail, snow or wind---has come close to anything we experienced yesterday.

And, yes, the thought does arise quite often on these yucky days of  early May that we're getting payback for having such a mild winter.  In North Idaho, we know that the odds of getting ahead of the weather game are minimal.  For all the good that Mother Nature deals us, there's that much more bad to more than make up for it.

But as the lady at the Flower Farm said to me yesterday, "We still choose to live here."  

And, that's cuz when it's good, it's really, really good, and when it's bad, it's . . . . you know the rest.