Chilling. Howling. Roaring. All permissible descriptions for wind.
And there are lots of descriptive adjectives created by those of us who have had to get out in it to tend to livestock or start vehicles while snow and/or dirt are getting a ride to where ever the wind is heading.
These exciting thoughts raced through my mind recently while the wind played outside my window with tumble weeds, corn husks and dirt – lots of it.
For some reason, I focused on those times spent tending to cattle in the feedlot. Looking back, and just talking about those days, it doesn’t sound so miserable. However, a closer inspection brings back the frosted fingers, iced toes, dripping nose, and eyelashes that feel like they are freezing up, making it difficult to see what is going on at arm’s length.
Back then, trying to ward off the elements so I could do my share of the feeding and bedding, I donned the latest hand-me-down, fleece-lined man’s jacket with frayed cuffs that fit nicely over my over-sized man’s gloves. Just outside the porch door, the next addition to my latest style in “hired hand” attire was a pair of men’s buckle up overshoes. They were large enough to allow plenty of room for a double set of socks and my own shoes. Next came a stocking cap pulled down to my eyebrows and a thick knit scarf around my neck, covering my chin and mouth.
Come to think of it, the ensemble sounds a bit like that worn by the youngest son in the popular Christmas movie about Dad ordering a very unlikely lamp. You know. The one where the family winds up in a Chinese restaurant for Christmas dinner.
Anyway, back to the chores at hand, panting and puffing and snorting and struggling to keep up, I tried to stay out of the way of far reaching pitchforks and flying “saucers” of hay escaping from them.
A quick swipe at my nose with the back of a gloved hand controlled to some extent the continuous dribbles as the morning wore on.

Finally, so cold I could hardly move, the truck pulled away, the tractor headed back to the shop, and I was free to find my way back to the warmth of the kitchen where I plunked onto a chair after reminding myself to discard the overshoes at the steps.
First things first in the kitchen. In the days before microwaves, we had to draw the hottest water available from the kitchen faucet, or put some milk in a pan on the stove to warm up. Then stir in the homemade hot chocolate mix, collapse onto a kitchen chair because we didn’t dare go past the linoleum floor covering, and thaw out.
The big reward though was the satisfaction we felt as our tingling toes came back to life and we warmed up, knowing the livestock were very happy that we humans had thought about their comfort in the cold nasty weather.
It really was worth the effort.
And there are lots of descriptive adjectives created by those of us who have had to get out in it to tend to livestock or start vehicles while snow and/or dirt are getting a ride to where ever the wind is heading.
These exciting thoughts raced through my mind recently while the wind played outside my window with tumble weeds, corn husks and dirt – lots of it.
For some reason, I focused on those times spent tending to cattle in the feedlot. Looking back, and just talking about those days, it doesn’t sound so miserable. However, a closer inspection brings back the frosted fingers, iced toes, dripping nose, and eyelashes that feel like they are freezing up, making it difficult to see what is going on at arm’s length.
Back then, trying to ward off the elements so I could do my share of the feeding and bedding, I donned the latest hand-me-down, fleece-lined man’s jacket with frayed cuffs that fit nicely over my over-sized man’s gloves. Just outside the porch door, the next addition to my latest style in “hired hand” attire was a pair of men’s buckle up overshoes. They were large enough to allow plenty of room for a double set of socks and my own shoes. Next came a stocking cap pulled down to my eyebrows and a thick knit scarf around my neck, covering my chin and mouth.
Come to think of it, the ensemble sounds a bit like that worn by the youngest son in the popular Christmas movie about Dad ordering a very unlikely lamp. You know. The one where the family winds up in a Chinese restaurant for Christmas dinner.
Anyway, back to the chores at hand, panting and puffing and snorting and struggling to keep up, I tried to stay out of the way of far reaching pitchforks and flying “saucers” of hay escaping from them.
A quick swipe at my nose with the back of a gloved hand controlled to some extent the continuous dribbles as the morning wore on.
Finally, so cold I could hardly move, the truck pulled away, the tractor headed back to the shop, and I was free to find my way back to the warmth of the kitchen where I plunked onto a chair after reminding myself to discard the overshoes at the steps.
First things first in the kitchen. In the days before microwaves, we had to draw the hottest water available from the kitchen faucet, or put some milk in a pan on the stove to warm up. Then stir in the homemade hot chocolate mix, collapse onto a kitchen chair because we didn’t dare go past the linoleum floor covering, and thaw out.
The big reward though was the satisfaction we felt as our tingling toes came back to life and we warmed up, knowing the livestock were very happy that we humans had thought about their comfort in the cold nasty weather.
It really was worth the effort.