Monday night

It's 10:30 PM, and the worst wind we've ever had has just passed the 24-hour non-stop mark.  We always have wind where we live, on the back of the lake and in the Garfield Canyon area, but jeez, Louise--this is the absolute worst.  We lost another cottonwood tree just after dark; it fell between a fencepost and the outhouse--what a hit!  The outhouse was spared*, but the fencepost took a hit.  We're not complaining because the fence didn't have too much damage, and it could have been wiped out.  I had 13 or so birdfeeders, but we weren't home today when the worst of the wind moved in, and by the time I drove in the driveway I had only 2 or 3 feeders still hanging.  I think I can fix most of them . . . again.  And my wind chimes, oh, my . . . I'll have a lot of work to get them restrung and hanging again.  They were literally ripped to pieces.  I tried to find the "hanging chime parts" that were on them, but blowing snow had covered the yard, so now I'll have to wait until we get another melt to search out the missing pieces. 

To give you some idea of just how the wind whips around on our deck and front porch:  We heard several "thump, crash, bangs" on the front porch before we figured out that the wind was ripping our firewood right out of the rack and sailing it into the porch furniture and railings.  We're talking macho firewood, too, not some wimpy little sticks of wood.

Carolyn 

*Sparing the outhouse is a good thing because it is a working, frequently used guest attraction.  It's also a great hunting blind when I go after . . . well, I won't tell you what I'm shooting because it might be on somebody's endangered species list (but not mine, oh, no, not mine).  There's a window in the outhouse that's the perfect height with a perfect ledge for balancing a gun on, so I'd have been really unhappy if the wind had taken out my hunting blind aka outhouse.