A windy little story

This month, I tell you. First there were the minus 60 wind chills. Then there were the endless snowfalls which have so buried our dear cities that only the chimneys poke up out of the quiet, vast sea of whiteness. All we can see from our high up building is that great blanket of snow and the little red rectangles poking occasionally out of it, blowing pure white trickles of smoke into a vast blue sky.

Now has come the wind.

It is a terrible, terrible and fierce wind. It is dangerously cold. Most of us cower in our abodes, but winter is long. So even though it's a battle some of the neighborhood kids have struggled out to the great snow hill with their sleds. The wind fights them at every step. It tries to steal away their toboggans and inner-tubes. It is too strong against them to allow them to slide down the hill towards the river, the blinding wind blows far too hard for that. It is an epic wind too mighty to be moved against.

But there is still a way. Far at the bottom of the hill they simply sit down on their sleds, as if in defeat, and the wind blows them to the top.