The wind came up in the night. Strong. Cold. The dead leaves of autumn fly ahead of it. The bare branches of the willows and the maples and the aspens protest it. The temperature drops all day, pushing toward the single digits.
I walk in the wind, smelling fall, but tasting winter as well. And I'm reminded of the old Irish blessing: "May the road rise up to meet you. May the wind be ever at your back."
The Old Timer Says: "There is no need to fear the wind if your haystack is tied down."
Don't forget the Pickle Party December 1, 1:00 pm at Patterson Memorial Library in Wild Rose, WI. I'll be sharing some pickle stories.
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