When in doubt, talk about the weather

My family talks about the weather.

It's a running joke now. We put weather updates in our e-mails. In fact, I got a note yesterday from my sister, and she included the weather.

My brother-in-law thinks it's hilarious that we all discuss what's happening weather-wise. But he's from the city. The rest of us are from areas where agriculture is THE most important economic factor, so the weather is extremely important. From precipitation to wind, it affects everything we do.

We lived on a farm when I was growing up. Dad wasn't a farmer, but we rented a farmhouse on a working farm. My brothers and I loved getting to ride on the combine or the tractor, and the farmer (Randy DeJong was his name, I think) was usually happy to oblige. In addition, most of the people in our church were farmers or directly related to farmers, including us. We saw firsthand what happened to the crops when it was too dry or too wet. Even when we were little, we understood that the weather was something that impacted all facets of life.

I remember the wheat field south of our house. I loved walking through the wheat when it was green, watching it wave in the wind. Sometimes I'd lie down in the field, letting the wheat block out everything but the sky. It was a little scary, that sense of being isolated from everything, but it was a good scary. When the wheat turned gold, we'd pick heads and eat the wheat kernels. Once the wheat was harvested, though, the field became prickly until Randy came back through and plowed the stalks under. Then it was just dirt.

Across the highway to the east was a pasture that was usually home to cattle. I have always been a little afraid of cows. I was convinced that these cows, though, were going to get out of the pasture, come across the road, into the house, up the stairs to my room and eat my hair. I know [sigh].

One winter night when I was practicing the piano, I looked to my right out the living room door and I knew my worst nightmare was about to come true. There was a cow looking in the door at me. I checked every window - we were surrounded. I knew why they were there.

I learned later that they had gotten out of a feed yard about 30 miles north and drifted south with the wind, pausing at our house.

Wind is a constant here in Nebraska. There's nothing between us and Canada to stop it, so I've come to expect it. Sometimes the wind is a gentle breeze and other times it's a raging whirlwind. We don't talk about the wind because it's assumed. We talk about the temperature (it's been exceptionally cold here the last couple days with highs in the single digits). We talk about precipitation (we had about a half-inch of snow today). We talk about things that might make the weather what it is (cloud cover, humidity, etc.). We share our theories and the old wives tales we grew up with.

So if you're wondering what to talk to a resident of the Great Plains about, be prepared for an actual conversation if you bring up the weather.