Tag: sun

Windblown . . .

The wind last night, I am told, was sustained at 30 mph with gusts to over 50 mph. It seemed much stronger. It frightened me and I could not fall asleep until there were long pauses of calm. Then I would awaken again at the sound as the wind arose again like a locomotive bearing down on our small house.

The house is sturdy and it held firmly against the night’s fury — unlike a car in the wind. My sister and I sat in her car earlier during daylight, eating lunch together as we shared time and space . . . a luxury after the year of isolation with Covid restrictions and her immunocompromised status. But as we sat in the car we watched the sky become inky black and knew rain was to come. What surprised us, though, was the wind. It seemed to explode on us with a strength I had never seen. It blew the rain horizontal — I’ve seen that before — but blew so strongly that an older couple we saw crossing the parking lot in front of us could not take a step toward their car. Against the oncoming wind they could barely keep their footing except by grasping each other and leaning full weight into the blast.

The sound of such wind is what scares me. It is unearthly. Not quite a yell. Definitely not a moan. It is a steady fierce pushing energy that seems like it will never let up until it flattens whatever is in its way. As I listen to it in our bed in the darkeness, I am aware that I am holding my breath — or is the wind making it hard to breathe by literally stealing my breath away? The steady sound growls and grows. . .then changes to a slight whistle, then stillness until the next gust.

Wind is cleansing, blowing away the detritis of dead blossoms and winter’s dried, curled leaves covering the base of shrubs as protection from the cold. It is friend and housekeeper — but also an energy that will grow and blow and refuse to bend to the command to stop. When will it be still again?

I finally fall asleep. And when I awake to sun and light breeze, I breathe deeply of the earthy smell of spring . . . wondering why I fear a sound in the night . . .

Awakening to Moonlight

The past several nights, I have awakened just after midnight to moonlight streaming through our bedroom window. I have been entranced with its brightness — bright enough to throw shadows onto the lawn as I peek out the second floor bedroom window.

I never knew the moon to be so bright. But then, I don’t think I ever paid attention to the strength of moonlight before. When my eyes are adjusted to darkness, the moon’s light is strong enough to walk safely and able to spot any obstacles like the gaping potholes at the end of this winter, or stones churned up by the snow plow and thrown onto the road’s edge. The moon’s light is probably strong enough to do yardwork, if I were so inclined to leave my warm bed and get dressed in the chill of my house at night.

The moon is said to be a symbol of feminine energy and monthly cycles. Supposedly the moon was created as a “secondary”, less bright light than the sun which is said to be a symbol of male energy. Yet the light I am entranced by as I awake to it does not seem to take second fiddle to the sun at all. Moonlight is soft yet bright. It changes through the lunar cycle, never the same any single night. It rises and sets in different places through the year and its timing shifts as well. It does not share its light with an “in your face” brightness — rather it gives just enough light that I can see something but only with soft edges, not well-defined boundaries. And the softness of its light — even at full moon — makes me “work” to see things and know what they are. I have to want to see before my eyes focus and my brain discerns the outlines shown in the fainter light.

The sun’s light can blind one with light, moonlight reveals.

And the moon overcomes the sun in periodic eclipses, blocking the bright light of the sun for a few stunning moments of awe. . .the “secondary” light showing its subtle strength for all to see as though to say, “Each of us has our gifts. One is not stronger, of more value, than another. Remember . . .”