Oh my gosh the wind last night and this morning is terrible. I have never been bothered by the wind, but when I hear something go flying off of our front porch, I know it is really blowing outside. I can lay in bed and fell like Laura Ingalls Wilder when she was a little girl. Our bedroom is in a loft and I often think of her and how she grew up. Thankfully we don’t have holes in our roof like she did.
In the book The Long Winter, Laura describes how her and Pa were making hay and came across a muskrat house. Pa noticed that the muskrat house was thick so he told Laura that it was going to be a hard winter. Sure enough Pa was right. They ended up moving from their claim shanty to Pa’s store in town. Even though the store was built more secure, it was still hard to heat and they would stay huddled in the kitchen. At night when it was bedtime, Laura would describe what the wind sounded like. “The deep roar and the shrill wild cries of the winds were all around the little space of stillness.” And here is another. “All day and all night, the house trembled, the winds roared and screamed, the snow scoured against the walls and over the roof where the frosty nails came through.”
I couldn’t imagine what it would have been like living the life that she lived. When the wind blows here, I am safe and secure knowing that my family has a warm house with heat and plenty of food for our bellies. We don’t have to worry about seeing frost on a nail in the roof, or having to huddle in our kitchen around a wood cookstove.
I can’t help but think about Laura and how she grew up everytime I hear the wind roaring outside of my house. She described how lonely and little she would feel during those storms. I guess no one today should ever complain about the weather. It could always be worse. And I will always love laying in bed and hearing the wind roar outside my window.