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| This . . . |
Sometimes, setting a record is a good thing.
Sometimes . . . it isn’t.
Yesterday, on the 15 of January in Edmonton, Alberta, we set
a record for temperature. +10C ( +50F).
Happy dance!
And wind. 120 KPH (75 MPH).
Ick.
Fortunately, we don’t often get gales of this force up here.
But in Southern Alberta, they are quite common . . .
In the early days of our marriage, Husby and I bought a
mobile home.
It was 686 square feet of cozy, happy space.
And it was all ours!
Our little home on wheels came with a small entryway, built
by the previous owner and attached to the side of the trailer with an
assortment of screws.
Husby got the trailer set up. Dug lines for water and sewer.
Connected the power.
And attached the entry.
We had a home!
I should probably mention, here, that, in Southern Alberta,
mobile homes MUST be set up in an east-to-west direction. If they sit
north-to-south, there is a very real risk of having them roll over in tomorrow’s
gale force winds.
True story.
Moving on . . .
Our little home sat on the bare prairie, fully exposed to
the elements, but it presented one of the small sides to the wind.
All was well.
Our bedroom was in the far west side. No problem.
And then . . . the wind.
During the day, spending our time - as we did - in the
center, or on the east end, the wind was merely scary as the trailer shivered
with each onslaught.
At night, however, it was truly terrifying as we lay in our
bed with the floor bucking and hopping beneath us.
One doesn’t get much sleep when one is in a constant state
of ‘oh-my-goodness-we-are-going-to-roll-completely-over-with-the-next-gust’.
One afternoon, I was standing in the kitchen with the wind
howling around me. A strange noise had begun. A . . . scraping sound. I waited
for the next blast. There it was again. I followed the sound.
Right to our little entryway.
With each blast, it was being slowly ripped from its
moorings. I could see daylight in the cracks.
Frantically, I called Husby at work.
He hurried home and surveyed the situation. He fired up the
tractor and placed the bucket against the backside of the little box, supporting
it against the onslaught.
Then went back to work.
For the rest of the day, I kept an eye on our sad little
entryway.
Things didn’t look good.
Finally, Husby came home for the day. He looked at the
entry, creaking and jumping with every gust.
Then he reached out and, putting a hand under the step,
lifted.
The entire structure vaulted into the air like a box-kite
and flew 300 feet, landing in the nearby field. You have to know that this wasn’t
a little, flimsy, featherweight structure. It was built of solid materials.
Walls, floor, roof, doors.
And yet it flew 300 feet.
Yikes.
Husby then proceeded to build newer, bigger and better.
Which lasted until we sold our little first home and moved
north.
Out of the wind.
Into the cold.
But our house didn’t shake and we could sleep at night.
Yep. I'll take the cold.
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| Or this . . . Photo Credit |
