Here come the clouds again. Seriously, five minutes ago I was basking in bright sunshine, enjoying the luxury of writing in the sun. Now I’ve just pulled my hood up, huddling against the chill that’s cutting me to the bone, and I’m considering going back inside.
Yep, today I’m talking about the weather. It’s a constant topic of conversation here in Wyoming, because it’s about as predictable as the winning Lotto numbers. In the four days I’ve been here, I’ve worn everything from shorts to thermal gloves; we’d had rain, hail, blistering heat and glorious sunshine. And that was all in an afternoon.
This morning, as I was heading off for a ride with some of the girl wranglers, it snowed. Just a few flakes, but it was actual snow. In June. My Aussie blood was screaming in protest.
We headed up to the mesa, where a storm was brewing in the east. From our vantage point on the back of the horses, the sky was magnificent - vast and all-encompassing, with every cloud, every patch of blue, every bank of seething, ominous grey, telling a story. Turning our banks to the icy wind, we rode along the mesa past a weather station (so I was told) that I imagine works overtime, its position affording uninterrupted views beyond Buffalo.
Flashes of lightning and signs of rain in the distance were not boding well for a dry return; so we decided to head back the mountain to the corral.
As we arrived back home, the patches of blue had expanded; and as we unsaddled, there was absolutely no sign of the storm. It was hard to believe half an hour earlier we were actually too cautious to continue our ride; it seems we had cut it short for nothing.
And of course, now it’s glorious again. But that’s Paradise for ya - glorious in any weather!
Paradise: Stormy one minute...
..bathed in sunshine the next!