”If you’re not from the prairie,
You don’t know the wind,
You can’t know the wind.
Our cold winds of winter cut right to the core,
Hot summer wind devils can blow down the door.
As children we know when we play any game,
The wind will be there, yet we play just the same.
If you’re not from the prairie,
You don’t know the wind.”
-David Bouchard

I have to admit that I’ve both celebrated and lamented the lack of wind this past year in Ontario.  I told stories of the legendary prairie wind. And yet my memory started to dim after a while.

Being back on the prairies has jolted my memory. The last few days have been sooo windy.  I’d forgotten the fun of getting blown away every time I walk out the door. Or driving on the highway and the excitement of the constant interruption and subsequent gusts of wind when we drive by a row of trees or a semi or a group of large farm animals.  Take your eyes off the road to admire the scenery on a blustery day? Say hello to the ditch!

And yet, there’s something strangely familiar about this irritating and sometimes dangerous wind.  It feels like home.