Delta wind is a force unto itself. If you have never experienced it, but want to feel it for yourself, I recommend you don’t confront it alone. Yes, you need a spotter with you. The Delta wind’s superpower is not necessarily its speed, but its quirkiness. It comes out of nowhere, and it leaves the same way. It might last 10 minutes or 10 days. When dormant, the Delta wind lurks quietly and perpetually in the background, until it finally unfurls itself—wildly, and in uneven gusts—to remind you that you’re merely mortal. And the Delta wind reminds you the material objects human beings think they own are really just on temporary loan from the cosmos until/unless the Delta wind decides it wants to take them back. The Delta wind owns each of us who is familiar with it, right down to our very dust. The Delta wind will surely outlast us all.
The following is a revision of a post from 2018.
THE DELTA WIND MISPLACED MY KITE
Bow Tie o’ the Day begged to head outside to experience the concept of wind. I explained to Bow Tie what it is, and why it exists. I also explained that any wind that shows up in Centerville, UT is not “real” wind.
Dirt devils in the desert are also not real wind. Tornadoes and hurricanes are not real wind. Those breezes are merely a taste of wind. Even the wind in Chicago, which is known as The Windy City, is not real wind. If you want to experience real wind, you have to spend time in Delta, UT. It’s not even a contest. Delta wins.
I’ve observed the Delta wind blow cats out of trees. On many occasions, I have seen the wind there blow bigly dogs over while they tried to potty. I have regularly seen the Delta wind move sheds, lawnmowers, trampolines, and even bags o’ golf clubs. And, I kid you not, I once saw the Delta wind blow a chainsaw off a picnic table. Where it ended up, I can only imagine.
I myself was once blown over onto a washboard road while riding my bike in a Delta wind, and my bike was nowhere to be found after I uprighted myself and managed to dust myself off. I have seen Delta wind blow herds of humongous tumbleweeds against fences, covering the fences so thoroughly—and artfully—that the fences themselves were not visible. In fact, I once saw the wind in Delta blow so ferociously that it threw a bazillion acres of tumbleweeds so high into the air that they actually disappeared. And when gravity was finally able to pull them back down to earth, it appeared as if the heavens had opened wide and were raining tumbleweeds down upon the whole of Millard County. That, my friends, is wind. And trust me, there is no umbrella for tumbleweed rain. 
