Off To Oz

If this dratted wind continues, I fully expect to be whirled away and end up somewhere near the Yellow Brick Road.  I hope I don't jinx anything, but so far the farm has remained intact.  Weather Guy said this storm (set of storms, actually) shouldn't be as heavy as the last batch.  Yeah?  Well, the wind changed direction yesterday and the rain beating on the east-side windows was like waves crashing on a boat at sea.  One determined and obviously very hungry hummingbird was clinging to the feeder for dear life, soaked to his tiny skin.  The feeders are in an overhang on the normally protected side of the house, but there was no protection yesterday for man nor beast.

Camille called in the afternoon from Folsom to give me the scene down there.  Sitting in her truck in a parking lot, she laughed as she described at least six well-dressed people get out of their car and open their umbrella, only to see it immediately blow inside out and leaving the poor people drenched.  As she told it, it was like watching a cartoon or a sitcom.

The girls are well into the rainy-day routine now and were standing huddled by the door to the big room as I finished an abbreviated version of my chores in the barn.  There was a slight letup in the downpour and I didn't want to miss my chance to get back to the house without getting drenched.

One thing I must do today, rain and wind notwithstanding, is bring more wood to the porch.  With a clean chimney and sufficient air, Stove now has a voracious appetite and demands more fuel.  He has devoured in a few days what would have lasted a week.  The woodpile is under a tarp that in a big wind billows like a ship's sail and whips me about the head and shoulders.  Rain is easier to deal with.  Not pleasant, but easier.

I wonder what the zip code is for Munchkin Land.