"Drifting along with the tumbling tumbleweed....".  You can almost hear the lilting tune of that old cowboy song made famous by Sons of the Pioneers.  When I was a youngster my girlfriend and I wrote notes and attached them to some drifting tumbleweeds before setting them free.  

I'm pretty sure that was my idea and she went along with it like she usually did my ideas.

But we were dreamers hoping that someone would find our communication and take the time to answer us back.  I don't believe anybody every did.  But have you ever tried to catch a tumbling tumbleweed?  It's not easy an easy task!

Nary a day goes by when the wind doesn't  register at least 20 miles per hour or more out here on the prairie.  In these parts its more than tumbleweeds that take flight in aerial maneuvers that would rival the famed Blue Angel squadron.  Most anything not tethered is apt to shift in the fierce winds of southwest Minnesota.  Wicker furniture is upended, flower pots tossed amok,  and children's toy balls danced down the street.

Probably most disconcerting is the trash being thrown about by the winds.  Of course it is usually deposited by human means but the wind does its best to scatter the contents.  This weekend while visiting my folks someone thoughtlessly tossed a messy fast food bag in front of their house.  By the time I got to it the winds had scattered the contents far and yon.

Say what you might about it, the wind is here to stay in these parts.  You just have to accept it and learn to take advantage of it.  

Witness the massive wind turbines that every day harness the mighty gales. And my clothes line with garments flopping happily in the breeze are dried in short order.  

The wind is just a fact of life around here.  You know that they call the wind "Mariah...." so the old song says.  I guess if you put it that way it's hard to detest the relentless force of Mother Nature.