West winds

   Much winds yesterday,rustling the pines as well as the oaks,the maples and the elms.The wind brought rain and at times a banshee howl that chilled the spine.I think that Shelley had it right.

  " O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being,

Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead
Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing"

    Later in the early morning the howling ceased and silence so profound followed that I out of bed opened the blind to see if all was well.

" The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind, If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?"

Finlandia

 Finlandia.
An orchestral work by Jean Sibelius first performed  on July of 1900 while Finland still bore the yoke of the Russian tzar.

     When I hear it I see in my mind  walking in the snows of a Canadian forest of white birch.The opening bars of the music hints at a menacing presence in the stillness.
    A somber piece mostly,very fitting to the mood of a long drawn out cold winter here.

Boomers.

  Sound a sleep and suddenly a tremendously loud drawn out booom.Our building though old did not shake from the strike that must have been out on the water and close.
   Thunderstorms have been rare this spring and summer.Thunder in the distance has been heard a few times
rumbling like a heavily laden semi.
    I looked at the bedside clock and sighed its 2:20 am.More flashes and more booms close together then a muted howl of the winds just as the clouds let loose their burdens of water in a loud torrent of rain.
    Incongruously the below ground sprinklers added their contributions at the same time.
     "Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleeve of care" was not to be mine for the remainder  of the night.

A Shack in the Woods

    Found this at a yard sale recently.It is titled A Shack in the Woods and is a print of a painting by Frank (Franz) Johnston who was a Canadian painter associated with the Group of Seven in the last century.
    Since art is a truly emotional experience whether it is a painting or music I was suddenly overcome by a sense of peace and a sense of nostalgia upon looking at this work.
     I said to myself 'you came upon this exact view many years ago while out on a snowmobile trail miles from here.'
   It was the mid-afternoon of a day in late February I recall. I had broke a trail off the main one to do a bit of exploring and stumbled on to what seemed to be an old logging road.I must have gone about a quarter mile when I saw it.
   I shut my machine off and walked closer. The shack which I imagined to have once seen furs drying on a line in such sunlight that filtered through the tall evergreens was snow covered and near collapse.The old road had no human or machine tracks on its snow just deer and partridge ones.
  Standing in the snow taking all this in and hearing the breeze  rustling in the pines I was overcome with the same feeling that I was not to experience again till I came upon this painting.
      I stood there for an eternity it seemed though it was probably ten minutes. Feeling the cold starting to penetrate my coveralls I turned back to where I had parked.
  It seemed to be almost breaking a covenant to have to start the machine. I manhandled it around to point back the way I had come then fired it up and as quietly as I could manage I rode back to reality.