Last night a creepy wind blew west from the hills, in strange pulsing gusts, dying down to nearly nothing and then growing almost instantly to gale force, whipping shrubs and vines against our drainpipe and windows, stripping new buds from plants fooled by the false spring we’ve been having around here lately, tossing the top of our compost bucket around the backyard and buffeting who knows what else. It was hard to ignore, disturbing, though what can you do about nature?
As we lay in bed, trying to ignore the shrieks and whistles outside the window, I said to B that it was a witch wind. She said that was a sexist term, so I amended it to ghost wind before discussing the fact that there could be male witches and noting that I had recently read that ‘wicca’ originally, ironically, indicated a male witch.
This morning I woke up feeling dry as a bone.