The Wind April 13, 2013

April at Point Reyes means wind.  I don’t like wind.  It makes me feel vulnerable, the high-pitched whipping, the rattling of the kitchen vent, the creaking of the walls or roof.  I worry that trees across the road will uproot and collapse onto me, pulling the electrical cables down with them.  Despite the mesmerizing beauty of grasses in motion and my fascination with wind’s origins and energetic potential, I wither in the face of its raw ferocity and try to escape from it.  Pogo, the cat, does too.

Today was so windy that I ditched my plan to plant tomato seedlings and instead headed out to Bear Valley to take a sheltered walk.  I enjoy this even path and the company of others, from little ones carried in back packs to old folks bent over but still moving; we are all here to take in this simple wonder of spring along the creek side.  The wildflowers are beginning to erupt in earnest now following a few wet weeks and the creek is full and rushing.  The path is lined with tiny blue forget-me-nots, waxy yellow buttercups, delicate pink bleeding hearts, brilliant orange poppies, sunny white daisies, edible miner’s lettuce, and a few other charmers I cannot identify.  The cow parsnip and foxglove are preparing to pop, and several kinds of fern with unfolding fronds crowd among the shrubs at the creek’s bank.  I pause several times on the quartered-out logs that serve as benches to listen and witness.