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Chicago
has nothing on west Texas for wind. In west Texas
the wind never stops; each day it is only a matter of
how hard it is blowing. As plants reach a height
of a few inches they begin to lean slightly to the northeast
with the prevailing winds. The few trees are conspicuously
misshapen, those in protected areas only slightly so,
but those growing in the open look as if they had received
the attention of a slightly mad tree trimmer who left
one side of the trunk completely bare.
The wind shapes more than the
plant life. A constant dose of anything has to
have an effect. Perhaps in the city itself the
effect is not as strong for the there are other sounds
and activities which make the usual little breeze to
be unnoticeable after a while. But outside of town
on the sparsely located homes that are laughingly referred
to as ranches, the wind cannot be escaped. It is
ever present and adds to the squint lines around the
eyes that are a result of the harsh sun.
With the sun, the wind steals
all moisture from the land and everything that lives
on it. Native plants must be a hardy breed with a thick
protective layer to contain its juices and a strong stem
to resist bending to the ground. The small amounts
of rain must be quickly sucked into the plants before
the wind has a chance to pull it back from the quickly
drying sand. There is rarely any left for the animals,
many of whom spend their entire lives without ever drinking
water. All of their moisture comes from the plants
and seeds they eat. Horses and cattle on the dry, wind-swept
ranches must be given water daily to survive. There are
no open tanks of water as you see in other parts of Texas
for the wind quickly drains any puddle of water.
In the wide sky, the rain clouds
can be seen for many miles. The rain can be seen
falling for thousands of feet heading for the ground,
but here, too, the wind steals. For the black streams
of rain heading for the ground often get lighter and
lighter as they fall until the winds have stolen all
but a few drops which fall with a plop on the dusty sand. The
few drops soon stop though the rain can be seen falling
from the clouds all around before it, too, is stolen
by the wind.
Like water slowly dripping, the
wind can drive one mad. In west Texas, madness
is not a stranger. With the heat, the desolation,
and the wind, the mind has many things to battle. It
is especially maddening at night for as the land becomes
quieter, the sounds of the wind are more noticeable. Even
when light, winds chase around the corners and hidden
places of the mind, finding every crack and opening until
they fill one with a special kind of madness. It
is a madness that causes one to talk to themselves, to
stare blindly for hours at the horizon, to hoard money
beneath mattresses, and to listen to radio preachers
crying from dusk to dawn.
The wind's effect can be seen
in the people, not only from the glint of craziness in
their eyes, but from their bodies which with age resist
the normal thickening and plumpness. In west Texas,
the sun and the wind cause them to become thin with dry
skin and wrinkles that hang in folds from their cheeks. West
Texans become raisins, wrinkled and drying with the breeze. |
