Taught by the Wind

The sky starts to lighten as the earth turns again to reveal a new day. The leaves on the trees are browning and starting to fall but are not yet crunchy under my feet. The jug is on, coming to a slow rumbling boil to release the magic in the grinds waiting in the bottom of the plunger. I step outside, wet my finger, and hold it to the wind.

“Hmmmmm…from the South today, Wind?”

“For now,” puffs Wind.

“An interesting day ahead then.”

“It certainly has potential,” whispers Wind as they are whisked away pulling a tendril of hair across my face. I shiver and return indoors to complete my morning coffee ritual, swiping my hair back into place and feeling the chilly residue left by Wind.

There is an air of expectancy and not just because the news has been positive, or there is petrol in the car, or I managed to get the Vogels toasted just right. No, there is expectancy for what comes after the chilling gusts of the dawn, in the unanticipated shifts, in the errant squall. I hang the washing in anticipation of a drying breeze and water my garden in anticipation of that same breeze. What is good for my washing will be detrimental to my delicate basil and the lime tree that I have been nurturing so carefully. The lime always looks like it’s going to have a bounty of succulent fruit and then the tiny immature limes are buffeted by the wind gusting around the corner of the shelter I have erected, falling unceremoniously to the ground. This year I have managed to get four to the fully grown stage, using them only for special occasions.

The earth turns, moving the sun further from the horizon. The increased heat draws Wind into eddying motions across the surface of the land, kicking up dust and pollen.

“Ah-choooo!”

People look askance at my sneeze.

“I’m not sick, it’s just allergies,” I insist.

“Thanks Wind,” I murmur as I dig out a tissue and dab my nose. Heaven forbid I give it a good blow and cause unmitigated panic for anyone in close proximity.

Whilst my hands are busy carefully dabbing my pollen effected nose, that warm Wind gusts again lifting the hem of my dress enough to make me panic and drop my hands immediately to ensure my pale legs remain covered.

Nose sorted. Dress secure. I make my way further into the day.

I do not notice you for a while. Perhaps you are tugging at the hem of someone else dress, perhaps an equilibrium has been reached where the temperature and you are not at odds, or perhaps it is because my frenetic behaviour supersedes yours. If you really want me you know you can whistle and you will have my attention. The cracks and chinks in buildings where you find your voice to call to me, “come out to play”. But I am busy, someone has to get this done. I don noise cancelling headphones and zone out the world, including you, Wind. Immune to your call and other calls of nature.

I open a window to clear some of the stuffiness and you bite right through. Are you hungry, Wind? Me too. That gust a slap in the face alerting me to return to the needs of my body. Stiff from sitting, I close my eyes and reach my hands skyward intoning in my head…

Ka mihi ki a Ranginui…my body moves down and I fold at the waist to place my hands on the ground…ka mihi ki a Papatūanuku…I roll up, spreading my legs to shoulder width and stretch my arms out to sway like a tree…ka mihi ki a Tāne Māhuta...my arms and body undulate as I move like you, Wind...Ka mihi ki a Tāwhiri Mātea...my arms move to the rolling motion of the waves...Ka mihi ki a Tangaroa...and then a gentle run on the spot which gathers intensity to explode with, Ka mihi ki a Rū-ā-ū-moko...flowing into my very best pukana, Ka mihi ki a Tū Matauenga...my legs draw together and I stand straight to draw breath in...ha ki roto...and out...ha ki waho, ha ki roto, ha ki waho. I smile. I feel settled, but still hungry. I can fix that with lunch and I wonder how you fix your hunger, Wind. Are you off biting at others in cold climes where your southerly disposition eats warm layers for lunch?

You are steady this afternoon, Wind, as I too am steady. Outside, shoes kicked off and my feet planted on the earth. You flip the pages of the novel lying beside me whilst I flip between applications on my laptop. I take a moment to find the page I was up to in my novel and fold the corner. Now you can read as many pages as you want, Wind, and I can come back to where I was later. I write emails and update a few douments while you lazily read. I feel a little jealous of your casual whiling away of the afternoon. The clock ticks by and your gentle caress of my bare feet and flutter around the hem of my dress reminds me of our vigorous tussle just this morning

It is time. I can close this laptop and resume my reading. You, Wind, have made it much farther through this book than I. You nearly cease to exist as you seem to wait for me to catch up. The water bottle of the day swaped for a cocktail glass of the evening adorned with a precious segment of lime. That chilled tendril of hair from this morning, now warmed has fallen across my cheek, you Wind with a small gust move it out of the way of my lips as I sip and read on. The earth inching the sun back towards the horizon and a tranquil end to the day.

“Goodnight Wind,” I say.

“Goodnight my love,” Wind whispers in the waft of the curtains, cooling my body as I drift to sleep.