I Wonder As I Wander...In The Wind

I am particularly fond of the high winds that bluster and blow and push in the winter time.  They rattle the branches of trees and scurry leaves along so that raking isn't necessary.  If your flag pole is tall, the flag wraps tightly around the pole and hangs on.

I like to walk, the wind at my back, pushing me along.  I admire the colors of the land which look sun bleached and sere.  Beige and grey and blonds against a brilliant blue or steely grey sky.  It's beautiful in a take your breath sort of way.  Even the shadows that fall across the grass have a grey depth that makes me want to weep for the beauty of them.

Funny thing, winter.  So many describe it as death, but really it's beauty, stripped bare and scaled down to the basics, beautiful.

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One of these windy days  I heard the geese honking overhead, hundreds of them.  I went out on the back porch and looked up in the sky and one long straggling vee flew past and then there were hundreds more circling away on an air current.  They flapped their wings and struggled and for all that, they stayed in a circle that spun them right back from where they'd just come.  How exhausting it must have been to them, fighting to move ahead and being caught up in the endless draft that swirled them around and around, further and further away from the vee of fellow travelers.  Every now and then, with what appeared to be a huge amount of determination and mighty effort, one would break free and fly away from the dreaded current.


After thirty minutes or so of watching there were three left in the current who just couldn't seem to get out.  Indeed it looked as though one fellow had just made up his mind to stay right there.  He put out his wings and drifted round  and round and round,  no flapping, no fight, no struggle.  I felt sad for him up there all alone and wondered if, when that current finally died down, he'd hitch a ride in another passing vee winging it's way northwards, but I gave up watching him. 

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The winds that are high up, not near the ground, don't always shake and rattle the branches but you can hear it clashing and smashing about overhead.  Sometimes it makes me awfully restless when those high winds blow, as though I want to hurry up and get busy doing something, but I've no idea what and in the end, I sit back in my chair and try to distract myself.  Other times I do find some job that I can do but I'm aware all the while of the raging wind above me.  It's really quite strange but commonplace here on the hill to hear that wind pushing about the air above. 

I suppose there is a good scientific explanation for it, something no doubt to do with air currents such as the ones I see hawks and vultures gliding about upon and warm air  fronts versus cold air fronts and all such as that.  I don't much care for science overall.  

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I am sensitive to sound.  I just am and I can't tell you why. Back to the science but I think it has something to do with pressure on the cochlear bone in the ear.   I listen to the way people walk and I can pick up quickly who is walking or what their mood is.  I used to do it all the time at work  "There's our supervisor. She's upset over something."   The others would say, "How can you tell?"  "I heard her walking up the hall."  

I can get quite tensed up if I hear someone stomping about.  Occasionally John will be up a good bit earlier than I.  I can sleep very well but if he gets upset about something and walks across the floor I wake immediately, aware that he's upset and anxiety will rise up in me.  Now he's seldom frustrated with me.  It's usually a good sign that the dogs baring are on his last nerve, or he's heard something strange outdoors or he's spilled coffee and frustrated with himself.  But boy do the hackles rise  on me until I can get to him and ascertain what is wrong.

That's how these high up winds make me feel.  As though my hackles are all raised and I'm facing something I can't see.  It's a tension or sorts, I guess, one I pick up from the atmosphere itself.

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 Here in the winter winds tend to be gusty and strong.  They bluster and blow.  Now and then I feel a bit like one of the pigs while the wolf is outside huffing and puffing.  

But oh what clear blue skies often come with those bone chilling winds!  How can a blue be so blue?  Summer skies are lighter, not quite the brilliance of winter skies.

I love how it strings the clouds out to gossamer thin webs patched in here and there, unlike the big cotton puffs of summer.

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Sometimes I stand outdoors and just let the wind buffet me a bit.  To stand face into a bitter cold wind for a few moments clears the mind.  I imagine the wind pushing all those silly anxious thoughts and worries and fears out and away just as it pushes the leaves from under the trees and down to the bottom of the lawn, hurrying them along.

A cleansing wind, I call it.  Sometimes, I wish I could open my heart up and let it blow away a few things from there as well, you know?  

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In Hebrew, there is a symbol that is pronounced as 'Ha'.  Try it.  

When you say it there is an exhalation of wind.  Translated it means 'breath' .  It is a sort of 'wind' really.  It is what is meant when the Bible says that God breathed a breath of life into Adam's body.  Ha. Just like that and Adam was filled with life.  It kinda makes you stop and think, doesn't it?  Ha.

Can you imagine how powerful that breath must be?

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Thinking of that reminds me of a song that John introduced me to some time ago.  It's Kathy Wilson singing "Mighty Rushing Breath of God".  It's a powerful piece of music.  "Blow over us..." she sings.   Just click on the link and give it a listen.  

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I guess I've been long winded enough with this one...yep.  I did go there.