By Christopher Hessman
A thing of some significance happened overnight: the warming winds came well accompanied by great thundered mayhem and its chorus of audacious, startling colors. Cacophonous, they woke me up, fast, disorienting.
Yes, the winds came, and the snow which this year of grace hit monumental, head-scratching proportions was gone as if so many geese worried by a dog, now present, now gone.
The countryside rejoiced for it has yearned so for the warming winds and their promise of better days to come.
Because these winds so cause the people to rejoice, what with present benefits and happy contemplations of the warm pleasure days, now no longer merely rumored but en route... the very gods have decreed an entry more than suitable, monumental, the stuff of awe and nature's gaudy touch. . And so these winds never sojourn alone but always with those lavish supporters, stentorian thunder paired with the wild magnificence of swift lighting.
It was a thrill to lay in bed, alert and warm, to hear thunder and lighting and to know bone deep that with them came the real harbinger of spring, the warming winds. It was a release from brutal winter and its frigid regime... and lights went on in most every house as the denizens more than heard the news felt the warming winds... intelligence which made desponding nervous folk take heart, shake each other's hands, and kiss a passer by... and not regretting, proper like... the gesture as perfectly appropriate and rightly given.
Ah, yes, these winds, surprising joy their felicitous legacy.
6:04 a.m.
It is still quite dark this February day... but it is worth standing silent at the window, being forthrightly told... "Stand, reverencing mortal being, for we are the eternalities gracing you. If you value the warming winds, honor us as well as they do."
What is wind anyway?
All people worldwide live surrounded by, threatened by, helped by things they know little or even absolutely nothing about.
Wind is such a subject. We all know about wind, and we have felt, rather than thought about, its nature and substance. Wind is wind. It was here before I was and will be here long after I have gone, a symbol of the transience of all, particularly me. What is wind anyway?...
Wind is 1) moving air across the surface of the planet or through the atmosphere at a speed fast enough to be noticed; 2) moving air, especially a natural and perceptible movement of air parallel to or along the ground.
This serviceable definition instructs but does not satisfy. For that we must go to writers, for it is their task to describe feelingly an invisible movement, sometimes beneficial, sometimes destructive, always changing. Writers, driven to accepting challenges, took up this one con brio.
Christina Rossetti (d. 1894) , a "stunner" of the Pre-Raphaelites, scrutinized winds well, warming and otherwise.
Who has seen the wind? Neither I nor you: But when the leaves hang trembling, The wind is passing through.
Who has seen the wind? Neither you nor I: But when the trees bow down their heads, The wind is passing by.
Here are words more descriptive of this ever moving presence now here, now there, now seeming gone, mischievous recurring. No dictionary can compete with words so evocative and complete.
H.R.R. Tolkien (d. 1973) in his "Lament for Boromir" wrote this:
Ask of the North Wind news of them the North Wind sends to me!' 'O Boromir! Beyond the gate the seaward road runs south, But you came not with the wailing gulls from the grey sea's mouth.
Tolkien, with his fixation on the obsequies and ceremonies surrounding dead heroes of youth and stalwart demeanor too early curtailed, turns one of the winds into a messenger, an unmistakable lament, with overtones of Rams horns and Gotterdammerumg, very much in the Master's archaic lexicon.
I'd best return to the Pre-Raphaelites. They, in their amplitude, are as fantastical as Tolkien. However, while death stalks them, too, their obsequies are of beauty lost forever soon and ruby lips now still, unkissed into the eternal. Morbid, these are yet more blissful and festive than Tolkien's hauntings.
Here are more windy words, a poem by William Morris (d. 1896), the British writer beloved by Pre-Raphaelites:
Ah! no, no, it is nothing, surely nothing at all, Only the wild-going wind round by the garden-wall, For the dawn just now is breaking, the wind beginning to fall.
_Wind, wind! thou art sad, art thou kind? Wind, wind, unhappy! thou art blind, Yet still thou wanderest the lily-seed to find._
So I will sit, and think and think of the days gone by, Never moving my chair for fear the dogs should cry, Making no noise at all while the flambeau burns awry.
***
Morris' effusion, like Morris himself, is overdone, overwrought, always, unhappily a woman in the case. Indeed, many have compared the wind to la donna mobile... Morris knew. He had waited while she eluded him; her capers for others, not for him.
7:38 a.m. I wish to see the land different today, and so go out.
The sun is up, the snow is gone, the warming winds, too, all gone, merely leaving muds of every kind, the apt symbol of every day reality. Untouched by magic, the housewife's busy broom sweeps out the bits of land moving too, but only on the feet of men. "Henry," she says, "wipe your feet before you come in!" Women know this, early, and many other prosy things with which they maintain this orb. Not men. They overlook.
Yes, the romance of the warming winds is gone, but they have surely kissed this earth and from it now waking spring arises. Thus, winds frequent but so little known: We thank you for your good service... your exuberant, ostentatious rites. Good voyage to you... as millions worldwide wait for you, impatient, restive, expectant, as they have always been.
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About The Author
Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., where small and home-based businesses learn how to profit online. Attend Dr. Lant's live webcast TODAY and receive 50,000 free guaranteed visitors to the website of your choice! Dr. Lant is also the author of 18 best-selling business books. Republished with author's permission by Christopher Hessman http://ProvenAutomatedBiz.com. Check out AutoBlog Syndicate -> http://www.ProvenAutomatedBiz.com/?rd=kk0GLQbI
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