The above is the first line to the last song Kate Wolf ever wrote. She recorded it in her hospital room, when she was dying of leukemia 20 years ago. I never saw her, never knew her, but I miss her every day.
But last night, I did wake up to the sound of the wind blowing wild. It was scary at first. Normally we don't get 50 m.p.h. gusts of wind around here, and when we do we are already under a tornado warning. At first I thought it was the rushing sound of a chimney fire; I've never actually heard it, and I would prefer not to, but it's a possibility. Then I looked out in the fading moonlight, and saw the top branches of the white pines swaying like prairie grasses in the wind. I heard things hitting the roof; in the morning light I saw it was white pine cones, falling like hail in the windstorm. Th Hermit went outside and was overwhelmed by the smell of pine resin; a large bough had blown off one of our white pines, though fortunately not one of our "big sisters".
I worry sometimes about the "big sisters". There are three or four of them, about a hundred feet tall and that many years old, that are within felling distance of the cabin. That is, if a gust of wind would shear one of them off near the ground, and the wind were to be blowing in the right direction, a trunk of enormous weight would come crashing down upon the cabin. Fortunately, the likelihood of a shearing wind coming from the southwest is very slight, especially since the force of such a wind would be dampened by a few hundred yards of dense woods. But tell that to an insomniac at two in the morning. At that time, anything is possible.
The wind continued to blow wild all day. I don't handle wind well; it makes me restless and uneasy, perhaps as it is designed to do. It makes me want to stay inside in the refuge of a warm wood fire.
I got a good look at a snow bunting this morning on my way out the driveway. These birds are pure November, blown in by the wind and looking for all the world like wind-blown snow flurries, restless and white and scurrying, in the wild wind.