The Origin of Wind
Is it possible that wind has an origin? Can a scientist say, “that wind came from umm…over there by that bush.”? I can say that I’m from New Orleans because I was born there. If I were the wind I can’t imagine where I’d say I was from. “Over there”, I’d say with as much conviction as I could muster. But my eyes would betray me.
But now I’m the one sitting here writing this and I know where I was born. And when the wind comes from the northeast for five days at a ferocious pace my eyes look like the wind’s – looking for a new place to be, looking for things misplaced, looking for a steady mind to muss up, looking for whence I’ve come.
It is curious here in Anglesey that once you’ve driven one mile from the coast the wind has gone again – as still as to bring a pond to a mirror. The recondite force stirs my heart and I want to stay inside and sit there looking at the effects and wonder and ask my partner, “Can you believe this wind?”; only to have her shrug her shoulders because she is from this abstruse land of wind ‘o plenty.
“Is it bothering you, the wind?” she says, and I have no answer. A mountain man once told me that the wind, more than any other factor in the mountains, has been known to drive men mad. So, with eyes spinning, I say “No I just don’t know how it can just keep blowing day after day.” And her settled look defies the wind and I’m left looking out the window for a reprieve.