Winds on the Plains

In Kansas there is little to stop the power, the force, or the will of the winds. They come from all directions.

From the west, off the mountains with cool breezes, from the south where the Gulf forces up its rains, and from the north, bringing an artic blast from Canada. I blew in from the east on the storm winds.

My new home presented many obstacles to overcome from the searing heat of summer, to the bitter cold of winter, but it was the Kansas winds that I feared the most. A thunderstorm is rarely just a thunderstorm in Kansas.

All day I had an uneasy feeling. The temperatures fluctuated constantly, from cold, to clammy and then so hot I could barely breathe. The sky was strange, colored in late afternoon with a yellowish haze. There was no wind, not a single cloud moved, nor leaf flutter on the trees. By four o’clock I noticed that the animals were quiet.

My backyard is usually filled with the background noise of birds, squirrels, and neighborhood pets. The animals knew what was coming; humans are not especially attuned to such conditions. But I knew. Maybe because I didn’t belong there, maybe because I carefully watched changes in the weather that the natives had long sense become immune.

I paced my backyard peering into the yellow sky for signs, hoping I would experience nothing more than the neighbors’ jesting that I was an ‘easterner’.

Within minutes, no, it was more like a heartbeat, a flicker from a butterfly's wing, it was that quick. The winds roared in, forcing clouds across the sky, trees to sway, and blackness filled spaces where the yellow sky had once been. Within that blackness came the chilling sight of the funnel. It twisted and turned, forming high in the clouds, and then shooting downwards like dark rays of the sun, it began to suck into it every particle of air it could.

It sucked up the heat, the air, and every loose speck of dirt on the earth. With each turn it gained strength and speed until its hunger was more suited to heavier objects like shingles from the roof and posts from the fences. Unsatisfied the black beast pulled at the trees, and the sheds of backyards.

Now it was strong enough to reach all the way down to the earth turning in a rapid spin adding mobility to its force. I stood frozen in fear, awed by the spectacle of power, knowing that I needed to take cover, but unable to do so. I watched as it approached. Finally, I dropped to the ground pressing myself into the dirt, holding desperately unto blades of grass, a garden hose, and then the clothesline pole cemented into the ground.

With each device I sought to hold me down, the twister sought even harder to remove my grasp until, weaken by the force I was swirled up with the rest of debris, and moved rapidly across the countryside. Never have I witnessed, from so high a vantage point, miles and miles of destruction. I tried to warn others as we approached, but they could not hear my screams from within the roar of winds.

And then, as quickly as it had arrived, the monster fell apart, crumbled into a mere breeze and disappeared into the clouds. Released from the swirling mass I tumbled to earth landing haphazardly into a pile of hay. That is how I am able to tell you of this, and my advice to all who stand in a backyard staring into a yellowish sky; when the wind picks up- so should your feet.

Run!