Tuesday, April 9, 2013


At 2:55 this morning the wind slammed into the neighborhood.  She roared, loud and fearsome, like a mythical goddess.  The trees shuddered.  The house shook.

I tried to doze, but couldn't.  It was so strange.  There was a surreal current coursing through the streets, but not a pleasant kind of energy.  I must have fallen back to sleep occasionally because I had surreal dreams to accompany the wind.

At around 4:30 I thought she must have gone to Marathon or Midland or somewhere far from here because the silent stillness woke me up.  But never fear!  She was just hanging out around the corner.  In about five minutes the roar returned and didn't relent.  Not at all.

Now the wind has calmed, but a thick haze of dust shrouds the mountains.  My nose is clogged and my eyes are gritty.

The fresh green leaves on the trees are gently fluttering like butterflies.  I can't believe there is a single leaf left on those trees after the crazy wind.  Can you believe two years ago this week I was in Alpine looking at houses with a real estate agent?  And that the crazy wind turned a tossed cigarette into a wildfire that scorched hundreds of thousands of acres.

There is something comforting to me as I consider patterns of nature.  I am glad there is no wildfire right now.  The wind does not always live here.  As disturbing as she is to my nights' rest, there is something about her that draws me in.  That said, I certainly hope she bothers someone else tonight.

Can you believe that two years have passed since we made our way to Alpine from the farm?  Crazy.

I wonder if this wind is related to the one who woke me up in Virginia?  I just started reading Gabriel Garcia Marquez's memoir, but perhaps I should revisit At the Back of the North Wind, by George MacDonald.

PS Did you know that in the South of France they have a name for the wind:  The Mistral (which means "masterly").  But the Mistral is known for clearing the skies, and this wind has dirtied them considerably!


Chris said...

The Mistral is also known for making people insane because it can be unrelenting.

James"Elias" McCallum Grove said...

Speaking of wind...

Here in Sardinia, a large island located between Italy, Spain and North Africa, wind is a constant nuisance yet also a giver of life. Names here exist for more than five wind types (each one based on the direction it comes from): We have the maestral of course, hitting our shores and valleys hard with the cold artic wind that builds up in Southern France, the tramontana, a gentle northern wind. The Libeccio, my favorite, is a calming respite from the strong winds of the north and the southwest and the Sirocco, desert winds from the Southwest originating along the North African coast. These hot winds bring the sand and the heat of the Sahara all the way as far as Central Europe, making farm work quite miserable and the rain very unstable. Its so unpleasant and nerve racking that yes most people avoid even going outside. There exists a verb Siroccato, which describes the state that one is in when the wind blows. Land of the winds, Sardinia. with all this wind it makes me miss the gentler and easier to predict winds in the Appalachian Mountains. If anyone is interested in learning more about wind, check out the book Heaven´s Breath.

A friend from Roanoke


Laura: One Day At A Time said...

Hi Ginger~I have "nominated" you for a Liebster. You can read about what that means here: http://wldhorse26.blogspot.com/2013/04/liebstera-real-meme-of-award.html

And no, I can't believe how time has whisked along, and carried away years with it. I hope the wind is letting you sleep these nights!

CountryDew said...

My father used to sing the song from Paint Your Wagon to me when I was young:

A way out here they got a name for rain and wind and fire.
The rain is Tex, the fire's Joe, but they call the wind Mariah.

Mariah! Mariah! Come blow my love to me.

Sorry, your post reminded me of that. I'm not sure I am remembering the words correctly.

Beth said...

I was just watching The Dust Bowl documentary by Ken Burns, and your post makes me think of those poor folks who suffered so from the unrelenting wind and dust storms.

When we lived in the high mountains of Boone, NC, we regularly had winter winds of up to sixty and seventy miles per hour. I lay awake many nights listening to the constant roar and our house creaking and groaning. I love the mountains, but I must say that I dreaded those nights. I'm more of a gentle, caressing breezes sort of girl. :-)

Greener Pastures--A City Girl Goes Country said...

About what James said--Sirocco would be a good name for a horse! I'll have to file that.

The wind is the main reason we left Oklahoma. I hate wind. It makes me uneasy.

gingerhillery@mac.com said...

Hi Chris! Yes, sometimes the unrelenting wind can make us doubt our sanity!!!

Dear Friend James, what a treat to hear from you!!! Your comment was a big hug I needed last month! I hope you and your dear one are well. I would love to hear more about how things are going for you. Please give your mom and big hug from me when you can, and I hope that you can feel the gentle home winds soon.

Laura, thanks! Yes, sleeping well!

Anita, my dad used to sing that song too, and I love it! I should sing it to my children.

Beth, I just watched that documentary and boy, did that ever put my life into proper perspective. Wow.

OK Greener pastures, I am totally dropping your name right now. UGH! Not enough coffee yet this morning? Anyway, yes, Oklahoma, wind, whoa! And Sirocco is a great name for a wild spirited horse! Love it! I am glad life is going well for you in Jersey. Tell that wonderful state I say hey. And eat a bagel for me. Everything, sausage egg and cheese.

PS glad to hear from all of you folks. I appreciate our band of blogging friends. You are all wonderful and your comments are terrific. Sorry to take so long to respond.

gingerhillery@mac.com said...

Debi! I had my second cup of coffee and remembered when I quit trying to remember.

Greener Pastures--A City Girl Goes Country said...

Speaking of naming horses, your name is easy to remember because I named one of my toy horses "Ginger" when I was a kid and lived in Jersey City and the closet thing I came to a real horse was chasing the mounted policemen down the street. She was red like fire. Her mother was "Cinnamon," lol.

Birkurwar Jigar said...