Hurricane Sandy is rattling the shutters and trying her best to come inside. I am trying just as hard to keep her out. Right now, our little brick ranch holds six adults, three cats, one parakeet and a quite large Golden Retriever. There is simply no space for an uninvited storm to lounge about. 

They call her a “Frankenstorm,” and so far, just the mention of her name has shut down schools, closed businesses and caused general panic in bread aisle at the grocery stores. I am hearing reports of flooded basements, downed trees and power outages. So far, we haven’t had any damage, but I’m not sure I like the way the sound of the wind has changed from a casual whistle to a haunting howl.

The Derecho storm in June knocked out seven trees in the back forty. Sandy seems to be taking a different path with winds spiraling from the Northeast. The Mulberry tree will probably take the brunt of the damage this time around. Poor tree. Part of the trunk looks unwell anyway and it bore very little fruit this summer. Guess I’ll need to do some research into tree health---assuming it’s still standing in the morning.

Another thing I would like to research is the way moisture in the air interacts with light and cameras. I took a picture of a path-lamp at the park last evening, just before the storm began. Take a look at the contrast of shadow and light. I have never taken a photo like this before; it almost looks as though I touched it up on a photo editor. But it’s the original shot---straight from my cheap little camera.

So many fascinating subjects to explore! Again, I am thankful to be a theoretical farmer. Living in the world of theory allows such flexibility and variety in research. And the best part is the fact that it really doesn’t matter if I find any answers or if I just continue to ask questions. Both states of knowledge are equally rewarding. 

The back forty looks like a disaster area. We had quite a storm move through the Valley Friday evening. The weather-folk call it a Derecho: an unusually strong storm that, fortunately, doesn’t grace us with its presence too often. Derecho means “straight” (or “right”) in Spanish, and it definitely lived up to its name: the gust blew in a precise beeline, pushing over anything in its path. Unfortunately, we had about seven trees standing directly along the route the wind decided to take.

We spent most of Saturday morning pushing against the 90+ degree heat, trying to move the limbs and branches from neighbors’ yards. We still have multiple piles of debris that still need to be cleaned up, but all in all, we fared well. Many of our friends lost electrical power and had to deal with thawing freezers, no air conditioning (or fans!) and dwindling water supplies. There was a run on ice and water; most of our local stores ran out of these staples long before many folks were able to stock up.

The area gardens seem to be resilient, though. Saturday, the cornfields looked rather pathetic with all of their towering stalks lying horizontally across the field. By Sunday afternoon, however, most of the corn had straightened and looked no worse for the wear.  My broccoli plants (already suffering from the direct attention of some little green worms) are still leaning a bit to the East. Hopefully they will survive nature’s onslaughts.

But enough musing for this morning. The weeds are having a heyday in my tomato patch, and such foolishness must be stopped! Even theoretical farmers get their hands dirty once in awhile.

My writing sabbatical of late was caused by a chain of events that included needing a new computer, and then a new wireless router and various other technical complications. The start of this chain of events? One terrible night. 

On said night I snuggled into bed looking at the clouds brewing outside my window and listening to the rumbling thunder of a building storm. Spring means coming warmth, and here in the Midwest nothing says "Spring is Here!" like thunderstorms. Therefore, I fell asleep with warm weather on my mind and a smile in my heart. And was rudely awakened a mere 25 minutes later by a collection of terrible noises including (but not limited to) the strongest wind I'd ever encountered, children screaming, baby crying, and more. Our locked front door being slammed open by the force of the wind and everything in our house seemed to be shaking. And before we could even get everyone gathered and down to the basement, it was over. The aftermath? A variety of damage around the farm, and the need for a new roof on our home.

A romantic date night with my husband (who has previously worked on a roofing crew and therefore felt confident that we could takle this project) found us at Home Depot purchasing shingles, tar paper, drip edge, starter roll and various other things that were previously not in my vocabulary.  And this past weekend was a whirlwind of activity with a roofing crew of friends and family.  Our good friend and groomsman from our wedding, Chad, even travelled across the state to help out and lend his expert guidance.  We had not seen him for quite a few years, so his presence added an exciting element to the adventure.

Overall, the weekend was a noisy blur of scraping shovels, staple and nail guns popping, air compressors charging, circular saws whirring (and falling off the roof...) and men grunting and laughing.  I would even venture to say that, "A good time was had by all."  We couldn't be more grateful for such fun and capable help!

On Sunday it was just Matt and Chad - so guess who else got to help!  I aquired a massive sunburn and some new technical skills.  Put a nail gun in my hand and watch me go now!!  I'm sure my husband spent most of the day cringing...

However, Saturday was cool and cloudy, perfect weather for working on the roof.  We had plenty of help, so most of the time I was able to sneak over to an undisturbed corner along with the super duper zoom on my camera and slip (hopefully mostly unnoticed) into stalker mode.  It is not very often that one is able to observe that mysterious animal, man, in his natural element such as this:

My major concession to higher gas prices has been to set the cruise control to 70. Yes, I know, but it’s slower for me – just ask anyone.

Anyway, I’ve managed to squeeze out a few extra mpg for my Geo Prizm – nothing major, but every little bit helps, right? The slowdown, however, has had another positive effect – I’m paying more attention to the scenery. It seems a bit easier to glance to the left or the right, to really see the countryside I’m traveling through, when my car is moving a bit slower than the rest of the traffic.

This was very noticeable on my last two trips west. The homeplace is about 3 1/2 hours from where I currently live, and it’s a relatively easy drive on the interstate. So I head west in the late afternoon, and before the sun becomes too much of a problem, I keep one eye on the road and the other on the view.

The Kansas terrain changes significantly around Salina along I-70. The trees, shrubs and rolling Flint Hills give way to my Kansas. I prefer wide open spaces and the ability to see to a horizon where the landscape tinges blue. I can finally breathe.

For other views of the Great Plains, visit the other GRIT blogs, include K.C.’s Waking Up in Kansas and Kate’s Osage County Almanac.

About 25 miles west of Salina, a new sight has appeared in recent months. Rising from the prairie is a forest of wind turbines, gleaming white and silver above the green and gold land. Fifty-six of the turbines have gone on-line, producing enough power for 37,000 Kansas homes each year. From what I read, there will be 120 to 170 on-line when the project – the Smoky Hills Wind Farm – is completed. The project spans 26,000 acres and involves 120 landowners.

The turbines spread along several miles, spanning the Ellsworth and Lincoln county line – it’s difficult to count as you drive past, so I’m not sure if all of them are finished. A few are close enough that I think I can reach out to touch them.

It’s an awesome sight.

And it’s even better when the blades gently swoosh through the Kansas wind, allowing the bright sunshine to cast graceful shadows on pasture and wheat fields. The farmers and ranchers are still utilizing the land, right up to the base of the giants, and one can see wheat stalks and cattle grazing even from the highway.

For me, the only sad part of the sight is the number of blades that are still – though I understand that will change by the end of the year, when the entire project is scheduled to be in operation.

When that happens, I will happily drive slowly past these behemoths, the new monarchs of the plains, watching the huge blades whipping in the prairie breeze. It’s guaranteed to bring a smile to my face – the gorgeous, awe-inspiring giants adding to the delight of my favorite Kansas scenery and offering a wonderful, renewable energy source for our struggling Earth.

If you’d like to learn more about wind energy, visit the American Wind Energy Association, the U.S. Department of Energy’s site on renewable energy, or the National Renewable Energy Laboratory’s site.