Last night, as I closed up the house and retired to bed, the wind howled and hissed outside. I peaked through an upstairs window as the wind bullied the neighbourhood. I marvelled at its many voices. It slapped and blasted the trees, the swishing leaves and branches, scratching and scraping across the surface of the night. It rudely invaded every nook and cranny causing the blinds on our bedroom window to rattle slightly as it whistled in. it was a song discordant to my ears.
This wind was in a ruthless mood. It was thrashing the trees and anything loose was being swept up in a flurry. This wrecker wind made everything in its path appear vulnerable. I heard the faint sound of the wind chimes in the backyard as they danced and dinged to the will of its brawling gusts.
As I settled into bed, the wind continued to hiss and shriek around us. The house creaked and twitched and as I slipped under the covers. Twigs and branches scraped across the roof before being moved along.
Thunder clapped and roared, somehow seeming louder in the darkness. The wind died away momentarily and the normal silence of the evening returned. I found it soothing. I waited for the wind’s return. It had rolled away. Instead, a few hesitant drops of rain fell. The drops gradually developed into a steady downpour, persisting for some time. The sound of slow, steady rain on the roof as always, brought a sense of comfort. I soon faded off to sleep like the rest of the family.
The next morning presented a scene of a somewhat blotchy and beaten landscape, courtesy of that tyrant wind. A large lightpole in the carpark directly in front of the supermarket had toppled at the height of the storm. Mercifully, it had fallen when no cars, or people were about.