I'm getting the White Eye from the Scotties. If you know anything about the breed, you know that when they get concerned, nervous, worried, they have this way of looking at you from the sides of their eyes...hence giving, The White Eye.
I suspect that if you could see me looking back at them, you'd see the Queen's version of the White Eye. The wind is blowing today. I hate the wind. So do Rory & Fiona. Thunderstorms that crack the sky open don't make me as nervous as the wind does.
There's something about it that makes me, literally, hold my breath. I remain anxious; tense. Want to bury my head under covers. Fi and Rory have opted to go nestle in their kennel till it's safe to emerge. Probably at 11 when it's treat time. Nothing gets in the way of treat time.
When I lived on Long Green Road, the house sat nestled down in the bowl of my property. The dividing line between my home and the neighbor was a massive row of white pines that towered above the houses. They hadn't been planted correctly; too close together. So, they were skeletal at the bottom and top-heavy; fully green at their tops.
My tight little home felt safe from most weather. Emotionally and physically, I always felt secure in that house. Even when the wind came up howling, it raced far over the top of the roof. But, the trees...those ancient, high, brittle trees. They would creak. Crack. SNAP. And, actually sigh. During the wind's rampage, I'd fret, "Will those trees make it? Or, is this house going to be smashed in the night?"
Yoki would silently go hide under the bed. Meggie, only, never seemed troubled. She left all worrying for me to do. She simply couldn't be bothered with such banal issues. Ah, the life of a Cairn Terrier Princess.
Here on Eton Drive, our home sits perched atop the lovely line of the Chestnut Ridge. It is the reason why we have such beautiful vistas to enjoy. But, oh, when the wind comes up? It slams our houses. The row of old, high pines that lace the back of the property take the brunt of its force. Without the covering support of the trees and brush that resided here with them prior to our development erasing all traces, I wonder how long the pines can buffer the wind before they yield.
I suppose I dislike wind because I can feel it but don't know where it's coming from and how long it will last. I can't project what its impact might be to my world. It's the sounds of fury that fluctuate greatly, so you're never able to get used to it. The sound of power that I don't share. It's bigger than me. It seems so random in what it picks to bring down. It destroys some things and slips past other things with only a whisper.
Today, my friend is watching the winds of change howl through his division at work. There, over 300 souls are being blown out of their jobs. Being escorted out of their cubicles and offices. Being escorted out of their hopes for security and blown into fear. It's another Friday in America. Another pink-slip Friday.
All over, the winds of destruction are howling. Powerless against it, all we Humans can do is brace and wonder at the randomness of who it will impact. Who will be left standing...at least until the turbulence strikes again. My friend has escaped the wind today. So I offer a prayer of thanks, mixed with prayers for all of those who didn't survive the blast.
There is always a blessed calm after the wind has ripped through and traveled on. I'm certain it will come...I just don't know when. Keep your head tucked. I think the winds will play havoc for awhile yet. I sure don't have any advice here. I only know, the wind makes me incredibly nervous.
Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly
I suspect that if you could see me looking back at them, you'd see the Queen's version of the White Eye. The wind is blowing today. I hate the wind. So do Rory & Fiona. Thunderstorms that crack the sky open don't make me as nervous as the wind does.
There's something about it that makes me, literally, hold my breath. I remain anxious; tense. Want to bury my head under covers. Fi and Rory have opted to go nestle in their kennel till it's safe to emerge. Probably at 11 when it's treat time. Nothing gets in the way of treat time.
When I lived on Long Green Road, the house sat nestled down in the bowl of my property. The dividing line between my home and the neighbor was a massive row of white pines that towered above the houses. They hadn't been planted correctly; too close together. So, they were skeletal at the bottom and top-heavy; fully green at their tops.
My tight little home felt safe from most weather. Emotionally and physically, I always felt secure in that house. Even when the wind came up howling, it raced far over the top of the roof. But, the trees...those ancient, high, brittle trees. They would creak. Crack. SNAP. And, actually sigh. During the wind's rampage, I'd fret, "Will those trees make it? Or, is this house going to be smashed in the night?"
Yoki would silently go hide under the bed. Meggie, only, never seemed troubled. She left all worrying for me to do. She simply couldn't be bothered with such banal issues. Ah, the life of a Cairn Terrier Princess.
Here on Eton Drive, our home sits perched atop the lovely line of the Chestnut Ridge. It is the reason why we have such beautiful vistas to enjoy. But, oh, when the wind comes up? It slams our houses. The row of old, high pines that lace the back of the property take the brunt of its force. Without the covering support of the trees and brush that resided here with them prior to our development erasing all traces, I wonder how long the pines can buffer the wind before they yield.
I suppose I dislike wind because I can feel it but don't know where it's coming from and how long it will last. I can't project what its impact might be to my world. It's the sounds of fury that fluctuate greatly, so you're never able to get used to it. The sound of power that I don't share. It's bigger than me. It seems so random in what it picks to bring down. It destroys some things and slips past other things with only a whisper.
Today, my friend is watching the winds of change howl through his division at work. There, over 300 souls are being blown out of their jobs. Being escorted out of their cubicles and offices. Being escorted out of their hopes for security and blown into fear. It's another Friday in America. Another pink-slip Friday.
All over, the winds of destruction are howling. Powerless against it, all we Humans can do is brace and wonder at the randomness of who it will impact. Who will be left standing...at least until the turbulence strikes again. My friend has escaped the wind today. So I offer a prayer of thanks, mixed with prayers for all of those who didn't survive the blast.
There is always a blessed calm after the wind has ripped through and traveled on. I'm certain it will come...I just don't know when. Keep your head tucked. I think the winds will play havoc for awhile yet. I sure don't have any advice here. I only know, the wind makes me incredibly nervous.
Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly
2 comments:
"Pink Slip Friday" I like that - not the meaning, but the rhetoric. Just thought I'd let you know.~Stef
As for me, wind is my favorite natural element after water. For all the reasons you said -- the turbulence, the unknown sources and direction ... how it stirs me, reminds me to be open, to taste the currents of I-Know-Not-Where, to let it pass through and over me with flavors & debris & suggestion ... I love the feeling of wind on my skin, in my hair ... I love napping outside on a lounge chair in sultry breezes ... I love storms (but not tornadoes, I've been in 2 of those and still have terrifying tornado dreams).
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