Winds in Wyoming howl like none other. We were respectful and ran for cover, just as when the thunder and lightening hit. Somehow I have a picture in my mind, that it was Mother who rescued Steve, when he was down the lane as the wind blew.
The wind-fallen cottonwood became our fort and it occupied every minute of our playtime. Up till then, I had envied Elizabeth because she climbed trees and had her fortress in the old willow. I could find her there with a book, out of the reach of mother's voice calling her for duty.