March 2004

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A week ago, the wind came. It brought with it an aura of weirdness. All around, there was damage in some spots and none scant feet away. It was one of those times when people who barely greet each other on calm days were in chatty moods.

The wind made me think of Cat Stevens' lyric, "I listen to the wind ... of my soul."

And the wind reminded me of the fragility of life, by breaking this limb from a long-leaf pine, carrying it across a building, and depositing it on the shrubbery outside our offices. The bit of brown in the middle of the pine needles is a baby pine cone.

A gift, and a lesson, from the wind.