Tumble
It’s been windy all day, really windy.
I think the wind is mother nature’s voice. Most of the time she takes it, she’s silent, occasionally she rains, but there are times she needs to speak. Let it out.
Wind is the way she puts us all in our place. When things are blowing around and it’s hard to stand still, we tend to pay attention. Wind messes up our hair, makes noise. There’s a push to it, a recklessness, that I love.
It’s interesting that it’s windy the day after Christmas. Kind of one of those moments when a crazy relative whips the tablecloth off and all the fancy stuff goes flying. I don’t have any tablecloth relatives, I mean we’re all a little touched, but not quite tablecloth.
Wind right after Christmas feels like that, a tablecloth sweep. Glitter flying, a clearing of the space.
Yesterday was family, food, warm cozy fun, but the new year is where it’s always at for me. The start is my favorite part, so this wind feels like a fresh cool bite of start.
I’m excited for the new year, the what—lies—ahead. A beginning is exciting, but one ushered in by wind, by the voice and howl of mother nature herself, feels like something special.
It’s cold tonight in the desert, cold and windy. All the Christmas fancy is put away and the dishes are clean. I’m in my office, with my tea, listening to the beautiful, edgy wind. I’m trying to be present, right where I’m at, but I can’t help looking forward.
My thoughts from the laundry room. Blow Out the Candle.
holidays life New Years thoughts Arizona hope learning New Year thoughts wind
Yeah, howlin here too, TE, a couple hours before sunrise, a couple days away from New Year. It was our 1st snowless Christmas in almost no one can remember how long (OK by me) but they’re sayin we might see some today. Not that I don’t love My Beloved Sandra’s visiting family, but I’m hoping their vehicles have snow treads…
I live in Norfolk, in the East of England, where the wind sometimes blows, unhindered in its flight, straight from the Urals, they say. In any case, East Anglia is often swept by powerful, moody winds that account for dramatic, changeable, splendid skies.
I love winds. As you say, they are Mother Nature speaking out and hushing the nonsense and pettiness of our chatter.
I love your piece.
Reblogged this on Jane Wilson.