By Jeff Kurrus
Unless the wind is blowing out and I’m at Wrigley Field, I’m usually not too excited about it. When it blows, I’m deer hunting. When it doesn’t, I’m duck hunting. A north wind often turns into a south wind, and a day at the office turns into no wind at all.
When I’m flying a kite, even a gentle breeze would do. But it never comes, unless I’m trying to get a shot at a squirrel on a green-leaved limb.
All in all, the wind and I are not friends. Unless I’m cutting my yard and don’t want to sweep. Or a lake is crystal clear and the sun is straight above.
But I don’t hold anything against it. Every once in a while a breeze emerges from nowhere, blowing my little girl’s hair in her face. And then I have no complaints at all.