It can get blustery here at the edge of the mountains. Yesterday was one of those days: warm, partly sunny, westerly winds 70+ miles per hour. More than once on my walk the wind stood me up and pushed me back a few steps. Grit was blowing in my eyes so I was tempted to walk backward, but I wanted to stay alert for any airborne tree branches or baby carriages that might be hurtling my way. The chain link fence around the baseball field was plastered with all manner of blasted detritus: dried leaves, cardboard fast-food containers, a long strip of danger tape carried off from some now-unmarked hazard. I tore off a segment of the tape as a souvenir and shoved it in my jacket pocket.
I made it home without incident. On the front porch the wind had pulled the plant pots right out from under their plants and carried the pots away, leaving the plants behind, root balls and all. Anne was standing in the kitchen talking to her mother on the phone, telling her about the wind. Watch this, I said to Anne. I showed her my strip of yellow tape, stepped back out onto the porch, and tossed the tape into the air. Anne looked at me quizzically when I came back inside. I threw caution to the wind, I told her.