Which Way Blow the Prevailing Winds?

I can't figure it out, I tell you. There's been a definite shift in the universal winds, a movement after months of stagnation, a scent of change in the air.

And most of it is forward motion - something I've hoped and worked for.

But just as I take a deep breath, preparing to let out an exhale that's been waiting to escape for months now, the winds shift.

Not so fast there, whippersnapper. Better shift your balance - wouldn't want you to get lazy or overly confident. To the nimble go the spoils.

Okay, I'm on my toes. I'm paying attention. I'm trying not to put a value on any of it, seeing it all as a learning experience, all of it as something that offers me something I can use.

The wind is great for new beginnings. Ever go outside after a wind storm and notice all the dead sticks, branches and leaves on the ground? That violence gave everything a good shaking and cleaned out all the dead wood, making room for growth.

Wind is exciting, too. When I was a kid, I stood out in front of my uncle's farmhouse and watched a tornado coming up the road. I was so enthralled it didn't occur to me to be afraid until he came out and yelled for me to get inside.

The tail of a hurricane blew through our town when I lived in Connecticut. After going outside to hustle Vito, our ornery cat, to safety, I stayed outside and let the wind whip me around. It was just enough to be exhilirating, not so much as to be terrifying. I'd do it again in a heartbeat.

I guess I'll be putting that exhale off for awhile longer. Better just to stick with the calm, even breaths and let the wild winds do the work.

Gale Force Winds

"...And like a never-dying force, the wind
Roared till we shouted with it... " 'The Wanderer' John Masefield

Wild weather this February has brought. Yesterday's snows were so heavy that they left close to two hundred thousand people without power in just two Hudson Valley counties. Then came the rain, the rising streams, the flooded roads, and predictions of the worst still to come.

We expected a foot of snow in our little town today. Instead we got some fat, jolly flakes, a lot of rain and a lot of slush.

The storm arrived tonight. As I sit here writing, I feel like I'm in a ship at sea. The wind is lashing the driving rain against the house and howling around the corners. People we know have deserted their homes, people who lost power yesterday and have no hope of getting it back before the weekend. We've been lucky. We've got heat, lights, even our connection to the web.

Yet we're alone tonight, tossing and pitching in the center of a furious winter storm, listening to the rain pound against the windows. I worry that if the temperatures drop just a little, that rain will freeze. Then we'll be adrift in a sea of ice. I worry about the people who have to go out and I'm grateful I'm not one of them.

I can ride out the storm, secure under the covers tonight. Tomorrow morning I will wake up and the occasional stream below the rocks in our backyard will be a pond. It's possible the wind will still be screaming. Or perhaps it will all be over, and everything will seem swept clean, scrubbed and fresh.