THE WACKNESS OF WIND

I’m taking a moment out of my day to lament…well…August. If August were a person it would have sold its children into slavery, cheated on its spouse and lost all of its money in a ridiculous pyramid scheme.

See, in my country August signals the end of Winter and while this is supposed to be good news, it brings wind. That one most disgusting, intrusive and disrespectful of all natural phenomena. Every August day, day in and day out, Mother Nature purses her lips together and tries to blow the last life from the earth, presumably to make place for new life to come.

Dry, shriveled leaves dance in differing concentrations through the air and the last bits of cold is forced through the small cracks in windows and through your bones. Trees bend. Flowers fall.

But it’s the sound that gets to me most. It’s the sound you can’t get away from. Sometimes the wind liberates a ghoulish howl that warns of midnight monsters that will come for you when dark descends. Other times it thunders angrily under loose roof tiles and shade ports and you’re reminded of every bad thing you’ve ever done.

Today it gushes…over and over and over like beleaguered ocean waves in a storm. It tells you: I’m fierce. I’m constant. It is only a matter of time.

I’m supposed to work…and I am, but boy, I really want to get into bed, draw the covers over my head and escape the long, hostile tentacles of Wind. And maybe I’ll stay here until September…

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