Winds of Change

The weather in North Dakota is as in-decisive as a young girl approaching puberty.  I came to work this morning with long sleeves, long pants, and a jacket.  By nine o”clock I had to put on a winter parka atop those items. The wind whipped forcefully enough to almost take your breath away. You know what I mean.  When you try and converse and the words just don’t come out as they’re held at bay by the force of the draft.  A bevy of golfers had topped their noggins with winter hats.  Blankets covered the legs of riders while jockeying carts about the course.  Just before the noon hour, I went home for lunch and returned donning gloves.  Is this still August in this part of the country?  At four o’clock I went out to photograph some bull elk that Gary had shown me the previous day.  From the new vantage point I knew I could get much closer to my quarry.  By now I had to resort to a pair of shorts and a T-shirt.  That’s the see-saw weather of the upper plains.  We had some time to kill before any evening visiting would take place so we cruised into town to add a last ditch shopping spree to the repertoire.  For our final hurrah here, we purchased some Western jewelry to remind us of our days in Medora.  We ended the day with another campfire. And as the day began it came full circle once again. Winds came out of nowhere as the mercury plunged to October-like temperatures. Undaunted as camaraderie overtook any negative emotions of weather, our entire group sat and traded barbs, cajoled about each others’ idiosyncracies and agreed there would be no good-byes. Just the fact that our paths would cross again–somewhere down the trail.