Life on the Plains

A haiku I was compelled to compose yesterday:


The wind, relentless.
My mind like a tumbleweed -
restlessly rattles.

The wind and I are at odds with one another.  I am always telling Tyler that if I had been a Texas ranching pioneer (Perish the thought.  Ugh.  The flies.  The heat.  THE WIND. So thankful I was not.) I would surely have been brought low by "prairie fever" and ended up like poor Mrs. Brewster:  limp nightgown, wild hair, staring blankly into the distance rocking a baby back and forth, back and forth, contemplating when to pull out the old butcher knife.  (Yes, that's a Little House On The Prairie reference...These Happy Golden Years to be more specific.)

I don't mind a nice breeze, but when wind positively rattles the windows and whistles around the walls all day and night it really gets to me.  Maybe wind could be a new and effective interrogation technique for law enforcement.  Perhaps living on the Texas plains isn't the optimal environment for me...I wonder what is?  I'm thinking green mountains with streams and meadows for larking about in a la The Sound of Music opening song, but I don't think the opportunity will arise for me to move to the Austrian alps to test my hunch.