Winnetka West

Big Noise From Winnetka is a Bob Crosby Big Band song from the '40s, often thought of as "Big Wind."  Watching Bessie the other day as she waited in the drive with her ears flapping like standards on a flagpole from the wind, that was the song I heard.  I wasn't sure we wouldn't all end up in the Land of Oz.  Yesterday the wind died, so the torrents of rain fell straight down instead of sideways as they had the day before.  Rain pounded on the metal roof of the barn so loudly that I couldn't hear the milk swish into the pail by my side.  Water ran into the girls' sleeping room in rivulets so that I had to make a trench to direct it through.  I drew the lucky number, though, because the rain slacked off as I made my way back to the house, slogging through ankle-high wet grass with two buckets of milk.  I'd anticipated a second shower of the day, this one ice cold.  Bess had the good sense to wait up on the porch during the deluge this time.  The dust pits dug by the chickens are now swimming pools, if the hens were so inclined.  I've got my work cut out for me whenever we dry out.  The weeds are taking full advantage of this rain-sun-rain to sprout up and are going to be out of control soon.  My days will be spent on the mower.  The weatherman has promised a short break before the next storm hits this weekend.  March is definitely going out like a lion this year.