The divine Deisel happily watching over his farm.
When I think of southern Alberta, the first thing I think of is the WIND. It is ever present, howling outside my window. It is so dry here that snow has no weight. The wind picks it up and sculpts it into fanastical shapes. Where the wind blows contant the grass shows through. Where it drifts, fences and ditches disappear.
Where is the 6 ft deep ditch? Our front fence? Hidden by the snow & the wind.
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