I had some moments of down time the other day. I sat in a comfortable chair on an outside deck and just listened.
The deck sits high above a three-acre meadow festooned with a small stream and pond. The deck is high enough so that I am higher than some trees and even with some others.
An easy breeze was blowing at a gusting clip. It was more than enough to move the meadow’s pines into a weaving choreography of synchronized dance.
Three tall polls of Buddhist prayer flags flapped their applause to the gusting display.
There was sound too. The pines and needles split the wind into thousands of audio spikes. In unison they schussed and hissed into a soothing sound that both comforted and mesmerized.
Wind is one of nature’s elements that can play all characters in the daily drama of weather. It can be the fierce movement of the gods, the deus ex machina of a Greek play. It can be a gentle ingénue, a zephyr of sensuous and pleasing innocence, or it can be a silly comic like Bottom in A Midsummer Night’s Dream as it moves invisibly across the landscape.
The wind is both rogue and jester, but it is never the fool.
I enjoyed my time in the chair.