local to local
It is easy to write about the wind in reporting terms, but harder to convey its presence. The wind rips and tears at everything causing all the trees in town to grow leaning in the same direction. It is impossible to combat it. Yesterday a pigeon was suspended in mid air out my kitchen window as it struggled against the easterly force. The wind gallops through the grass and plays the leaves in the trees, the corners of the house and all else in its way like tuneless reed instruments. We stay in side and watch over our lone cottonwood with fear, how much can it take. I couldn’t work; the wind entered my consciousness like a predator. I know the ranchers’ eyes are to the skies. How many rain clouds bulldozed through the valley by wind without releasing a drop? And in the process, the wind further dries everything in its path. I am sure the fire fighters and all those with property to loose pray for the wind to relent, believers or not. And all I can do is record…. 6.27.2012, heavy winds.