Category Archives: Wind
The Wind
The Wind
Blasting blizzard chills
Balmy breezes kiss bare skin
Are you friend or foe?
Wild Weather
Before the big windstorm happened, the Captain was keeping a few cans of beer cool, in a plastic tote on top of the patio table that you can just see the corner of at the right side of the photo.
The second patio table, the round one on the left, used to sit in the middle of the deck where the fallen hanging basket is lying on its side now. The wind must have blown the table over as far as it could go.
The oranges were on the table beside the beer cans, to keep cool. I also had a small parsley plant in a pot. You might see it lying on its side without the pot near the far end of the deck. Just a matted clump of dirt with a few yellow green leaves in it.
The blue pieces are part of a small clay pot that I painted about ten years ago. I always liked that little pot, but never imagined that the wind could send it flying off the table and smash it. The white saucer used to be under the parsley pot. Not sure where that pot ended up. I think it was plastic so it may have flown to the neighbours’ place or be in the next town by now.
The bits of branches from the fir trees are relatively small compared to the branch that came down just beyond the deck, as you will see in the next photo.
I’m glad no people, dogs, or squirrels were out for a walk when this branch decided to drop in, and I was so happy to see the squirrels and two hummingbirds alive in the morning.
And so, further to the previous post about Thanksgiving Day, and all we have to be thankful for, I feel very thankful to have been spared major trouble from this windstorm. Even the few hours of a loss of power were not too bad. I can’t begin to imagine the terror people go through in hurricanes. Hearing this wind roar through like a freight train was bad enough.
The Lost Dress
My lovely dress of golden leaves
Is tattered now, and worn,
The wind has warned – no more reprieves,
This time the leaves get shorn.
I hold on tight with all my might,
While gusts and gales rip past,
They tear my dress, and though I fight,
I’m nearly bare at last.
I shiver and the last leaves quiver,
Hanging by a thread,
Until they loosen, blowing whither
They know not, and spread.
My golden dress is on the ground,
For all to trod upon,
And scuffing feet will swish it ’round,
While gusts blow ’til it’s gone.
A Glimpse of Sun
A glimpse of sunshine feels so good,
A rarity today,
The breeze is buffeting the clouds,
And begs them, “Go away.”
The wind is messing up my hair,
Can’t get it to look good,
It’s threatening to blow me down,
If I don’t grasp this wood.
But look! The sun is coming up,
It’s bringing warmth and cheer,
And though it’s looking hopeful now,
It won’t last long I fear.
So I’ll just keep on hanging on,
And waiting for a break,
It has to warm up soon I hope,
Just how long can it take?
March
I thought we had escaped the grip of winter by now, but then, this morning, yuck!
March certainly came in like a lion here with a bitter cold wind and then a dump of snow. I’m counting on it to go out like a lamb, hopefully with mild springtime temperatures.
I did some digging and found out that some people think the proverb about March is not so much about weather as it is about the stars.
At the beginning of March, the constellation Leo rises in the eastern sky. Then at the end of March, the constellation Aries (the ram, or perhaps the lamb in its younger days) sets in the west.
Whether it is weather related or has to do with the stars, it’s often safe to assume the weather is better towards the end of March.
Just for fun, here is a timely Knock, Knock joke that you all know.
Knock! Knock!
Who’s there?
Marshall.
Marshall who?
Marshall come in like a lion and go out like a lamb.
A Cold Midnight Visit
Moans and groans that chill the bones,
Through the window stream,
Scents of icy northern zones,
Invade the sleeper’s dreams.
Cold unwelcome guest descends
On the huddled shape,
Shivering, the ice-ghost bends,
Whispers in her nape.
Who has paid the icy fare,
On these crystal flows,
Hitching rides on Arctic air,
Following their nose?
Walruses and polar bear,
Wolves and caribou,
Send their scent along the air,
Via Manitou.
Think of us, they sadly moan,
Swirling round the room,
Dream of us, for now you’ve known
Our cold nights and our gloom.
Crispin ‘s Weather Forecast
Waking up, he checks the yard,
Feels like snow that freezes,
Not quite yet, but blowing hard,
Come the northern breezes.
News is written on the wood,
Writing looks Chinese,
Anyway it’s not so good,
Says it’s going to freeze.
No, oh no, oh no-no-no-o-o-o-o!
This is not good news,
Says right here that it will snow,
Time to start my chews.
Here’s some rope to line my bed.
Captain won’t be pleased.
Likes his ropes kept in good stead,
He’ll be really cheesed.
But the Cap’s retired now,
He won’t miss this rope,
If he used it anyhow,
He’d be quite a dope.
Watch me shred this fuzzy line,
Stuff it in my cheeks,
It will make that bed of mine,
Warm and soft for weeks.
Ropey fibre dries my throat,
Swallowing is pain,
But let’s see what’s in this tote,
Tub has filled with rain.
Watch this clip and see my feet,
See my special toes?
Talent like this can’t be beat,
Every squirrel knows.
Ahhhh! That’s better. Now to go
Off to make my nest,
Deep inside a woodshed row
Safe and warm, it’s best.
An Omen of Change
It helicoptered from the tree,
This golden flaky leaf,
It’s happening, and I can see,
The maple is in grief.
The summer days are sadly gone,
Those romping times were fun,
But autumn’s here, we must move on
From lazing in the sun.
Without the maple’s leafy dress,
Her long arms will be bare,
No hiding places for the squirrels
Who used to scamper there.
It’s sad to see the warm days go,
And we’ll be soused with rain,
The leaves will swirl, the wind will blow,
As autumn comes again.
But as the summer weather sours,
Rambunctious days retire,
I’ll find a way to pass the hours,
Chew slippers by the fire.
A New Bird
About 100 ft. from my house stands a maple that has seen better days. The woodpeckers peck holes into the trunk, and it’s a wonder that the tree hasn’t lost more limbs in the recent windstorms.
Still, I love to see the woodpeckers, and I always have my camera handy for bird sightings. When I spotted this one on the maple this morning, I grabbed the camera and rushed out onto the deck to snap a photo. I closed the sliding door quietly.
“Please don’t fly away until I get a picture,” I whispered.
He didn’t fly away, so I snapped some more. Still he didn’t fly.
“This is great,” I thought. The squirrels were chattering noisily just then, and I assumed that the woodpecker hadn’t heard me tiptoeing out onto the deck.
But then I thought, “That’s strange. He should have flown by now. Or at least pecked at the bark. But he’s just sitting there. Maybe he’s sick.”
I brought the camera in and uploaded the photos onto the laptop. Then I could see the bird more clearly. I wasn’t sure what kind it was. Maybe not a pileated woodpecker, after all. He seemed to have morphed into something else.
A broken off branch surrounded by the maple’s tears?
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