The Weather.
It has worn this place and shaped its people like it has shaped its landscape.
Over the centuries and millenia, water has ponded its face and seeped into the cracks and crevices of her ancient furrowed face. Once resting and settled, the dry freeze of January comes, the ice freezes and, naturally, expands where it lies and pushes out the parts to the surface. Fractures form and great lashings of earth split and fall. The almighty ice has come and stretched and fractured the ground and its rocky mounds. Pieces split and fall under the pressure of sleet hail and pounding rain...
Then came people... and they live here.
They talk about the weather. Without knowledge of how to drive, keep warm and what to do in a snowstorm - it could be the death of you. To wear the skins of other animals - it is warm, windproof, comfortable and not plastic. People speak of farming in terms of weather because they dont reticulate, but depend on nature's driving forces for their crops, their nourishment and their livelihood.
The cold shapes their mood, their day, their faces. Cracked, dry hands stained with grape and engine grease. Tired eyes sparkle. Asleep after the forecast on the evening news - nodding, head in hand. Its all the here and now and maybe tomorrow.
