Yesterday the wind inspired a blog about the fall- because of the way it feels, the way it sounds, the way it pushes each step to some specific but unknown destination. The wind is magic- an ancient, secret thing. Especially here, especially now.
Having largely chosen to live either inland or in the mountains for the past decade or so, I had forgotten the chop and severity of sea wind, the push of it; the relentlessness. Especially northern sea wind.
I had forgotten that when it blows like it has for the past two days, with ferocity and determination, it utterly transforms the world. It rearranges every natural and unnatural thing to suit itself, to become itself. When the wind kicks up here, and remains kicking, everywhere smells like the sea; every noise sounds like a storm; everything feels fateful, fated, inexplicably sinister- as though every aspect is driven by this unyielding force at your back.
I love this wind.
It is inconsiderate at 2:30 in the morning when it cracks at my windows and drives cool air and ear splitting howls into the bedroom. It is frank, unapologetic, and quixotic. It is the nature of the sea itself: of course the unbound wind coming off it would reflect it's unchallenged power.
And now it's time to walk in it.
Until next time….
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