Winter – Julie Fredrickson

We have been in the middle of a massive windstorm since some time late last night in South west Montana.

We are lucky in Gallatin Valley too. Further northwest communities like Glacier and high country passes can expect white out blizzards.

Meanwhile, here outside Bozeman, we have the unnerving, unsettling, intermittent howl of unexpected and inconsistent gusts of wind. And they are strong.

Just about 50 miles east of us a sheriff pulled over to help a tipped over semi on I-90 only to have another truck tip onto his car. Thankfully everyone is OK.

The winds have been roaring across the valley in the bright blue high-altitude daylight. Blinding and deafening in equal measure. You almost pray for the clouds to come in. Which they do, quickly and with little warning before they are swept away.

All morning it has been bright and loud and my animal hindbrain hated it. It reminds me of the conditions before the prairie fire that burned 3000 homes to the ground in Boulder Colorado. The fear of fire in dry landscapes has become a permanent feature of the west.

Our snowpack is poor this year in the Rockies, so it’s a whistling screeching horror racing through patches of bare brown grasses. Only the mountains serve as wind breakers. It makes you feel exposed as barren aspens and cottonwoods trees do little to slow the wind down.

We aren’t quite in the main area of concern and yet our winds are gusting past 40mph

I have on noise canceling headphones to cut down on the howl to focus. Your mind can’t train itself to adapt to this type of wind as white noise. The gusts are too unpredictable.

We secured what we could, but items are flying around with ease. Our chickens haven’t left their hen house all day. It’s unsettling.

We’ve done our preparations. This afternoon we gassed up and got groceries. Dishes are washed and the laundry is done. I wish I was in a little less pain, as a shower is part of my usual storm routine but I’ve been in a migraine pattern. At least the clouds are coming in to cut down on the light.

Cars with extra gas cans and spare tires

We aren’t the only ones thinking ahead. When we got gas in town, the van next to us had multiple cans to fill. A wise precaution. If you are up north stay safe and be prepared. If you don’t need to travel consider staying put. There is no reason to put yourself in harm’s way. If it’s ripping the lights off barns, just think might else it might do.

Security cameras are on but a flood light got ripped clear off

I have come to appreciate routines and rhythms. They have a place in anchoring our lives. I didn’t always feel this way. As a twenty-something I enjoyed novelty and varied schedules. As I’ve aged the wisdom of setting your body to nature’s clock has become my preference.

One crucial routine for me is walking or hiking for an hour a day. Getting outside in full view of the sun turns out to be crucial to my health and well being. It helps my sleep and keeps my energy steady. It’s a routine I didn’t keep when living in Manhattan as there was little nature to enjoy and even less sunlight. While I walked everywhere that was a transit decision more than an anchoring rhythm.

But the past two weeks have been completely shot routine wise for me as the polar vortex brought temperatures well below zero and then a series of snowstorms piled up the powder. Usually in Colorado the sun will melt off light snowfall within hours and the temperatures will climb into a pleasant place where you can be outside without layering up. Instead we’ve been Arctic cold with snow that is sticking around past it’s fluffy white powder phase.

The biggest impact has been on my sleep. Typically I am in bed by 9pm and try to stay off my phone. I’ll read and drift off to sleep. Without the sunlight resetting my circadian rhythms I’m letting the blue light of my phone tempt me into staying up “just a little bit later” till I find it’s past midnight. It’s not even doomscrolling. It’s just not winding down when my body normally does. Rather than falling asleep naturally I’m struggling to come down. So I talk myself into just reading one more article and then I’m sure I’ll be tired. Then another. And another. And well you get the picture.

This is beyond the help of hot tea and magnesium. Only sunlight and movement in the morning is going to reset me back. Thankfully it seems the Arctic air has passed. I’m tempted to take a double Ambien and force myself to sleep so I can restart the process in the morning with a good night sleep and a wander in the foothills. So on that note I’ll leave you to a good night as well.