The air itself cries out.
Aug. 18th, 2001 01:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
reynardoI've never heard the wind roar before. Not like that.
At 4am I was woken by the rushing and blowing of the wind. I listened in the dark, and after a while I could tell how strong the next gust would be by the sound it made in the trees it was passing en route to my place. Sighing meant little more than a breeze, a rushing sound meant the shed door would probably rattle, and a big blow was easy to tell.
I worried for a while about the state of my front porch, the rabbit, the shed, and the various trees around me.
Then there came a noise like...
Like a lion in the distance...
Like a jet engine starting up...
Like a train passing by three feet away...
The house shook, and I could hear the trees outside creaking and bending. I could feel the strain as the tiles held to their neighbours and the branches to their trunks. I thanked my own foresight in placing the shed against one of the house walls, thus protecting it from this god's-breath, and thanked my own fates that I was not trying to drive or sleep rough or perform emergency tasks while the squall attempted to drive down and carry away all outside.
And the roar passed, and the following gusts were less violent, less angry. After an hour, I was able to sleep again. Once the light came, it was obvious we had suffered no damage.
The wind is still blowing. Later, I'll head out and feel it for myself. It's not as strong as it was last night, or maybe in the light it seems thus.
I'll take a walk around and see what the damage is in the neighbourhood.
And I'll listen for the sound of the approaching gusts. If one of them roars, I'll hide.
At 4am I was woken by the rushing and blowing of the wind. I listened in the dark, and after a while I could tell how strong the next gust would be by the sound it made in the trees it was passing en route to my place. Sighing meant little more than a breeze, a rushing sound meant the shed door would probably rattle, and a big blow was easy to tell.
I worried for a while about the state of my front porch, the rabbit, the shed, and the various trees around me.
Then there came a noise like...
Like a lion in the distance...
Like a jet engine starting up...
Like a train passing by three feet away...
The house shook, and I could hear the trees outside creaking and bending. I could feel the strain as the tiles held to their neighbours and the branches to their trunks. I thanked my own foresight in placing the shed against one of the house walls, thus protecting it from this god's-breath, and thanked my own fates that I was not trying to drive or sleep rough or perform emergency tasks while the squall attempted to drive down and carry away all outside.
And the roar passed, and the following gusts were less violent, less angry. After an hour, I was able to sleep again. Once the light came, it was obvious we had suffered no damage.
The wind is still blowing. Later, I'll head out and feel it for myself. It's not as strong as it was last night, or maybe in the light it seems thus.
I'll take a walk around and see what the damage is in the neighbourhood.
And I'll listen for the sound of the approaching gusts. If one of them roars, I'll hide.
