With the weather preventing crops to grow I find myself remembering stories of the great depression in the 1920's. My mother, her sister, and parents Lile and Bill went to the SE corner of Colorado which was known as the badlands where they lived in a dugout. They dug out a big room in the ground, covered the top the best they could as there were no trees to cut down, and attempted to farm. During the winter Bill went to Lamar for supplies. He was caught in a blizzard on the way home and happened onto a dugout. He found a lady and two children with no heat and very little food. They had cow paddies for fuel but they were froze solid and the lady couldn't break them apart. Her husband was somewhere out in the storm. Bill broke the paddies loose and build a fire. He stayed the night, leaving her a pile of fuel in the house and sharing his supplies with her before he left. The drought made it impossible to raise a crop or have a garden and winds blew away the topsoil so the little family moved into Lamar where he worked in a garage. Bill lived to be 91 and each winter when the snow fell he thought of the little family and wondered if they made it thru the winter.