I'm told that living on the prairie, one must pay attention to the weather. I was doubtful until yesterday although I have lived through a winter that seemed impossible here along the Canadian border.
The G-man and I attended a Sunday evening protest of the proposed Alliance natural gas pipeline through the White Earth Valley yesterday. When we left home on the north side of the moraine, the windshield wipers were needed, but by the time we reached the moraine itself ( the one that runs east and west about twenty miles south of the Canadian border in our region, the clouds dissipated and only sunshine accompanied us to our destination. 92 F degrees of sunshine, that is.
However, on the way home, a phone call alerted us to take serious notice of the thunderheads moving into anvils above our little town. The roads were soaked and our garden met us with wet whistles. Flowers are brighter than ever this morning.
However, we heard that six miles east a tornado had threatened, hail stones way bigger than any of us like to consider fell from the sky and some folks lost roof tiles from their barns.
Our little corner of paradise rested in splendor, but all round one sort or another of anguish prevailed.
I think the part of all of this that impressed most was the nonchalance of our fellow townsfolk. No one was much disturbed by the impending disaster predicted by the authorities. Everyone took the possibilities in stride.
As for me. I was happy to have been on the sunny side of the moraine for the evening. Better to come home to a big wet than endure one.