I used to think I knew what the wind sounded like ~
I grew up in that place "where the wind comes sweeping down the plains."
I love the wind. Perhaps that is why tornadoes, sandstorms and forbidding northern coastlines have always appealed to me. It was one of the hard things about living in the city, in Niger. Sometimes, the air was so still if felt claustrophobic.
It is not like that... not at all... on this Isle of Shapinsay.
From the moment we boarded the first ferry until this exact second, even as I sit at the kitchen table, watching North Sea waves blow across the bay and crash on the beach, I don't think the wind has ceased to blow since we arrived, not even to catch a quick breath and pick back up again. We walked the dog down the beach last night... and again this morning we went out, scouring for treasure and sea shells... and sometimes we had to grab ahold of those littles because they couldn't make any headway against the wind.
We slept in the camper vans, on the lee side of the house last night. I listened to the wind blow... all night long.
It was beautiful...
...the best music I've heard, in a very, very long time ~
and I slept more soundly, perhaps, than I've slept in a long time as well.
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