The names it has blown in the past
And with his crutch, it’s old age, and it's wisdom
It whispers no, this will be the last
And the wind cries Mary
(Jimi Hendrix 1967)
This time of year there is a lot of weather around, it keeps doing things. Warmish one day, coldish another. Some days are mild and other days there is a rawness to the wind that sends a chill through the bones. Some days it is quite blustery, some days we get gales and thankfully rarely, we suffer from hurricanes. The wind can be so destructive, destroying everything in its path. The word 'windswept' might evoke romantic images across the moors, but in reality it is about flattening all that goes in front of it.
Some plants love a good breeze, my prairie borders move and dance in the breeze in an almost hypnotic way.
I sleep with thee, and wake with thee,
And yet thou art not there;
I fill my arms with thoughts of thee,
And press the common air.
Thy eyes are gazing upon mine,
When thou art out of sight;
My lips are always touching thine,
At morning, noon, and night.
I think and speak of other things
To keep my mind at rest:
But still to thee my memory clings
Like love in woman's breast.
I hide it from the world's wide eye,
And think and speak contrary;
But soft the wind comes from the sky,
And whispers tales of Mary.
The night wind whispers in my ear,
The moons shines in my face;
A burden still of chilling fear
I find in every place.
The breeze is whispering in the bush,
And the dews fall from the tree,
All sighing on, and will not hush,
Some pleasant tales of thee.
John Clare 1794-1864
It is a rather fine poem.
and yet, and yet, there is a lot to be said for a gentle breeze, or a bracing walk along the sea front with the wind blowing in from the sea........
........and let's not forget, without such winds and turbulent weathers witches would not look to the skies and fear a house falling on them or indeed their sisters.