Welcome to the Panhandle. Land of the great burning plains, where the prairie dog kneels, on the back of his heels and fervently prays for rain. Land of windstorms and sand, where the hot wind blows, right after it snows and a man leans sideways to stand. A land that’s a stranger to water, where the wind is so strong it pushes the freight trains along and a man can spit a mile and a quarter.
Isn…