My least favorite element is wind. I believe I’ve expressed that in past columns, but in case you’ve missed my heated disagreement with that particular force of nature, there it is. 

I of course realize that the wind is important for no less than a million reasons, but when it comes to parts of nature that just give me anxiety, it stands alone. Let it be known, I don’t see a future for myself anywhere near Tornado Alley. 

As I listen to the light howls of our northerly winds sweeping out the last remnants of winter, I can’t help but think of my greenhouse, my fences and every sketchy tree leaning near any of my equipment. 

We thought about wind when we picked one of the parts of the farm on which to build our house. Our last house used to sit just below a bank on the hill that howled in the winter wind; that wind even pulled a few shingles off our roof toward the end of our residence there. 

While we haven’t experienced true tragedy at the hands of wind yet, I am acutely aware of how terrible it can be if you don’t prepare for it—and even then, it can just get lucky and find a chink in your armor as it barrels through. 

I spend a lot of time clenching my jaw when I hear or feel the wind around the farm, but even so, I know it brings good things, like the end of foul weather. For my boys, it also brings the perfect conditions for a timeless spring activity. Flying kites.

My oldest recently celebrated a birthday and received a simple kite from his grandpa. Walker, my youngest, also got a kite so they would be able to fly them together. When we arrived home with the two of them a few days back, they both ran inside to retrieve their kites and ran back outside before their poor dad could rest his feet in the recliner. No time for rest, Dad; there were kites to be flown.

Out to the field we hiked, kites in hand, wind chilling our hands but exciting the boys. As we arrived at the field beside our house, I led them to the middle, where they would be least likely to run into anything. After a little adjustment to each kite to rig them properly, we got one kite off the ground, and then the other. Unfortunately for me, this began the phase of running and tossing kites while the boys giggled. 

Once I taught them how to let out all the string on the spool, however, they were able to get above the tumultuous middle winds and more easily ride the steadier ones above. The kites still crashed occasionally, but stayed up longer and at least gave me a chance to catch my breath in between launches. 

We flew kites until our hands were cold, and my neck was stiff from looking up into the clouds. The boys would have kept going, but didn’t argue once their attention was called back to their shivering. 

As the kites were reeled back in, my oldest lost his grip and through uncanny coincidence, his spool caught on the string of his brother’s kite, and it flew twice as high as either had before. It was fortunate and funny, but I took over the reeling in of the kites from the kids after that. They didn’t mind that, though, because it allowed them to run inside and get warm while Dad cleaned up after them. 

The way out here even our adversarial forces can be utilized for merriment. After all, why worry about what the wind might take away? You can go out and distract yourself with the joy of what it can give.