It's a cold blustery day here in the Portland area. The Portland area is right at the western end of a geological wonder known as the Columbia Gorge. At certain times of the year, whether cold or warm, and when conditions are right, the wind howls out of the gorge and across the Portland area. We live about twelve miles south of Portland, so the wind is not as fierce as up at the mouth of the gorge, but we still got our share of it today. The snow and ice of a few weeks ago caused a lot of damage to the trees and now the wind has put in it's sickle to harvest its share of what was left.
Don't you find it interesting to listen to people talk about suffering when they are so unfamiliar with it. It is done with a certain sanitary distance as if probing a road kill carcass with a stick. The carcass can be described from every perspective except that of the road kill itself. We all avoid suffering when we can, but sometimes it comes upon us suddenly and without warning or apparent reason. All to often, though, it's our own foolishness that brings it upon us.
