At 5:45 this morning, the sounds of something creeping about the porch disturbed my sleep. It was reminiscent of the sounds of stupid cats straying throughout our neighborhood. This was just one of several times on this restless night ally cats had interrupted my sleep. Twice earlier they fought over the control of our yard. As one can imagine, no one will ever see my name listed in a cat lovers digest. "Damn cats" I mumble, attempting to huddle back to sleep without waking the rest of the house.
Approaching the second that I was almost re-nestled, I heard a click from the doorknocker. It was not the hard knocking of an early morning estranged guest, but more like the push from something that could not quite grab the doorknocker. I had hoped it was not a stray cat knocking to get in. After a second click of the knocker I was fully alerted, and I became aware of winds howling all about me. This wind sounded cold and somewhat calculating. The strength was growing with deliberate intent, the gushes were pressing with relentless focus, and the whole event living with reason and purpose. This was an immensely coherent wind, which was not going to rest until it reached a final destination; meanwhile it had rushed my community with the entourage of an L.A. police car chase.
Finally, I had grasped what was causing the ruckus, and readied myself for more sleep. The wind had its own ideas, picking-up momentum, and doubling in its own urgency. The windows were shivering and shaking as windy screams sounded everywhere, leaving thoughts of a thousand apparitions surrounding me. A cold chill shivers up my spine as the chills take over my body. It only took me a moment or two to regain my senses and put fear back into my pocket. After all, it was just the wind.
I was starting to get the point the wind not only wanted me to listen, it seem to need me to listen. I thought if I cleared my mind of the impending danger, and all the damage winds have caused, so that maybe, just maybe, I could understand. To accommodate new thinking, I recall gentler days when the wind was not so verbose, like the gentle trees swaying in a simple sea breeze or the sweet softness of a seductive blow to an ear. Further study reveals, I could not voice this story without winded opinions, nor I could not sing without bellowing my words. Never the less, the winds I think of now, would not exist without an air of excitement that breathes life to all that is living. But what is it, is there something I am missing.
On the other hand, my wife still slept and the noise should have the baby crying. Why was I the only one woken? What kind of stories did the wind have for only me to hear? I seriously did not think that the wind attempted to warn me of some impending danger. I can only lay and listen and attempt to understand. I was really losing hope of getting a little more sleep.
Millions of stories of forgotten days, remembering faces of century old - and even - forgotten nations overwhelm me. Worshiped in the early days of man, rediscovered by men of the renaissance and defined by scientist of the modern world, the winds of this earth recalls its past, records its present and even predicts its own future. These windy stories were not only of our local hills, but it can also tell us stories of how it formed our lands of which we dearly love. But no real considerable story seems to breeze my mind.
I glimmer back for a moment on the awesome power of wind, and recall undeniably that wind has, most certainly, circumvented our globe long before any human has ever step foot on it. When all of a sudden, heavy gusts pounded the outside walls, and I felt the house swaying toward submission, as the winds seem to grow even stronger. The fear from beforehand turned into worry, was there a tornado outside. "I will huff, and I will puff, and blow your house down." I pondered from a favorite childhood story. Of Course I was cowering in here with the Three Little Piggies. While outside the Big Bad Wolf displays his vanity.
Bam, silence, I sit as still as the current new wind, with a small part of me wishing that the winds would return. Suddenly, I entered the eye of a hurricane in a hurricane free environment, and it seemed as if the big bad wolf just gave-up. The wind was gone as strangely as it appeared; leaving a lifetime of wonders in its wake, and of course, the 6:00 a.m. wake up call buzzing my ears.
Donald W. Landon