We had a rare and wonderful soaking rain last night. It reminded me of Virginia, where I had left my heart so many years ago. I lit a candle and sat, listening to the pitter patter against the windows. I soon became sleepy, which was followed by a restful, full night’s sleep. Unlike Virginia; however, the rain has been accompanied by much cooler temperatures and strong winds.
One thing about Wyoming that I am still trying to become accustomed to is the endless dust and dirt. It doesn’t help that I have a gravel driveway and a sand walkway leading up to the front porch. All of the windows have about a half inch of dirt and silt built up in the sills, which I have been trying to clean one at a time. The dust blows right into the house now that windows are opened with the warmer temperatures. Everything that I pick up off a table or a desk is covered in a fine grit within a matter of hours.
Dust is the bane of my existence. When I was growing up, dusting was my chore; while my sister ran the vacuum. We had three large dogs that continually tracked in from the yard that was mostly mud. I suffered from sinusitis and asthma as a child, which is no surprise. Many years later I learned that I was allergic to dust. Since I have been an adult, dusting is the one thing of which I am guilty of procrastinating. It is often not until my cherry dresser begins to look white, that I force myself to tackle the tedious job of dusting. Here, where I am now living, it may be simply a waste of time.
Perhaps it is this grit, which is lived with on a daily basis in these parts that has given meaning to the true grit of the cowboys who have grown up here. I have one native friend who said she moved back here because she missed the wind. Another friend tells me he likes the wind because it teaches you how to bend and to be strong. Who knows, maybe that is why I landed here; but I will forever miss the rain and Virginia.
