The wind

I'm up far too late, and it's mostly my own fault... but it's also the wind. It's busy sending ice crystals in little flurries against my north wall. They make a crackling/tapping noise as they bounce off. The wind blusters against the building in a way that makes it rock gently, or shiver at times. But that wind, it's a sight to behold.

I've always liked watching the wind during a storm. Well, normally I like watching the way the wind makes the trees dance, but here that's not possible. Everything outside my window is a haze like an unfocused camera. (Well, the streetlight in front of my window and the road are about the only exceptions.) The lights on the hills are dimmed in the blowing snow, and the hospital is a fuzzy blur. But the best sight of all is the snow blowing down the street. Like a milky river, a light film of snow runs in ever changing rivulets, making patterns before my eyes and changing them in an instant. A little like watching the clouds move and change at warp speed. And then there's the canada flag up the hill, standing tall and proud, and shivering at the force of the wind. This invisible force that moves things, changes things, effects things. I'm entranced by the wind. In summer, I love to stand in the wind, let it hold me up. In winter, I know better. So in winter, I sit at the window and watch the wind trace patterns in the snow.