Winter Wind

Summary

The article "Winter Wind" describes the author's experience with a cold, strong wind in January that animates a leafless thicket near an airport, drawing a parallel between the complaining sounds of the wind and the thicket, and reflecting on the nature of the thicket's response to the cold.

Abstract

"Winter Wind" captures the essence of a winter day where the wind transforms a once lush thicket into a gray, complaining skeleton. The author vividly portrays the force of the wind as it races down from Canada, gaining speed across the open spaces of the airport before hitting the thicket and the author with equal intensity. The article ponders whether the thicket, like the surrounding nature, is truly expressing discomfort or if it is merely the human interpretation of its creaks and rustlings. The author muses on the possibility of the thicket dreaming of warmer days, drawing a poetic connection between the thicket's current state and its memories or aspirations of spring.

Opinions

The author personifies the thicket, attributing to it the ability to complain and potentially dream, suggesting a deep empathy with nature.
There is a humorous tone in the author's description of the wind's personified delight in the open runway spaces and the subsequent impact on the thicket and the author.
The author seems to appreciate the power of nature, respecting its ability to affect the environment and human experience so profoundly.
The rhetorical question about the thicket's ability to feel cold or hibernate like bears implies a philosophical curiosity about the sentience of nature.
The mention of Canada in the context of the cold wind might hint at a playful blame towards the neighboring country for the harsh weather conditions.

The Thicket Skeleton Complaining

Image by Author

The leafless thicket creaks and squeaks — the winter wind

In May or June, it’s usually a tossing-with-the-wind mass of green. Now, in January, a thicket skeleton. A gray, emaciated, complaining skeleton.

Some winter days, someone up there in Washington State leaves the door open to Canada and this cold, strong wind races down the coast and when it gets here it spots the airport with its long open runway spaces and goes Yay, I can pick up speed here, and does, so when it hits me walking right into it just south of the longest runway the thicket is not the only one complaining (or cursing Canada along with the door-leaving-open-er).

You know it’s windy when you have to lean into the wind and really push to move forward. All it has to do to push me over (pull, actually, in a way) is to, without warning, cease for just a second: I’ll push myself forward right into the ground.

Or is the thicket really complaining? Those brittle creaks and snaps and rustlings, does it know it’s cold or does it, like the bears, hibernate?

And if it hibernates, does it dream?

Of May or June?

Winter Wind

The Thicket Skeleton Complaining

Wolfstuff

So, who am I? Really really. I could tell you that I was born in northern Sweden during a snow storm, and subsequently…