I can dream!

The Messy Palette . . .

Winter has finally arrived in Wisconsin.  The Northern counties were buried in snow a few days ago, and now we “Southerners” (just north of the Illinois border) are suddenly remembering what winter is all about.  Beautiful!  Pristine!  Cold!

The wind travels and moans through our lane, which is actually a wind tunnel between condo buildings.  I love the wind, so universal and all encompassing.  I could be on the Yorkshire Moors or Scottish Highlands, or at our home in Northern Wisconsin where the furies of winter rampage, and the wind would sound exactly the same.  For me, the music of wind is a lullaby at night and an invigorating motivator in the daytime.  

Winter wind means business.  It’s cold, brutal, unfeeling, and unforgiving.  Yet as I hunker down and enjoy the peace and respite of winter weeks indoors, I can dream of those winds to come—always howling through our wind tunnel, always sounding like wind, but heralding new seasons:  the March wind—boisterous, vandalizing…

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