Friday, March 21, 2008


COUNTRY WINDS


Seems like the winds of March have all been compressed into the past three days, both in power and constancy. Worse than the mistral. You haven’t heard mountain wind till you hear it hissing its towering cargo of energy through the big field of winterdry mountain bamboo out front, whose leaves and stems have evolved to dissipate the effect of all that passing power not only by bending as much as necessary, but by bunching those dry-tipped papery leaves together in a million white-noise rattles. Powerful stuff.

For its part, the wind is powerful enough to blow local trains off local tracks, which receive the down mountain brunt of those big shoulders, so you’d think I’d know better by now, but noooo… This morning I headed off to work as usual, the wind so strong I couldn’t even freewheel down the mountain, the wind halting me like a big airy marshmallow, even trying to push me back up the mountain (it was trying to tell me something, I should have listened) till in my eggheadedness I finally powered my way down to the station and there beheld a growing crowd of fellow commuters just standing around in the lobby, the stationmaster hissing through his teeth at queries regarding the next departure.

After an hour of standing around checking the rural graffiti and the state of the neighboring rice paddies I gave up and wove my way back upmountain through the braids of wind to home, whence I called the office to say that unfortunately due to the powerful country winds there were no trains to the big city so I’d have to work at home today, and how it broke my heart and all. At noon the wind is even fiercer than it was this morning, and there are still no trains passing by down there, as I can see from the warm calm behind the big glass doors facing the lake over the rocking bamboo, with a good fire crackling in the stove and a nice cup of coffee in my hand, as I suffer the typical anguish of abrupt officelessness.

Oh well, I can always look forward to heading in on Tuesday, if I should come to be completely out of my mind.

4 comments:

tracy said...

"...and how it broke my heart and all." I love it.

As frightening as the winds can be, I do so enjoy listening to the effects they create. As I read this, I cannot tell you how I wished I could be there at pureland mountain.

Your posts are most excellent Robert; and I am always delighted and inspired here.

Bob Brady said...

Thank you, tracy; I hope you too were suffering the pangs of officelessness today...

tracy said...

Ha...I was on the road between offices today. Oh the sorrow of not being able to sit at a desk in the upstairs of a hot old house where my office is located for a time. Instead I had to drive in lovely weather, and then sit outside in a garden of daffodils with my tour guide at the state hospital. Sun shining, birds singing...Oh the dreaded day. Aaaah...

Bob Brady said...

My heart goes out to you in your nanoanguish...