What do I love about the wind.... I love 
- the smell of freshly blown dried sheets and T-shirts fresh off the line,
- the feel of wind on my face and hair when riding my bike,
- the wind on a crisp summer day in the arctic when hiking because it means no mosquitos,
- the tingly afterglow
of a sun and wind burn after a good x-c ski,
- the swaying of the Lombardi poplars in my front yard,
- the gentle falling of dried leaves across my path when walking in the fall and crunching on the path,
- closing my eyes to hear the rustling on a spring morning,
- the line of windmills powering electricity in southern Alberta near Pincher Creek
- the push it offers when behind in a bike ride, run or ski,
- when government offices are closed due to a blizzard day,
I hate it
when...
- I have to bundle up more walking to work in the north and one spot escapes like my nose or space on my wrist not fully covered and frost bite patch develops,
- vehicles don't start due to cold and high winds, or
- trees are broken, oceans rise, and there is tragic loss of life and property damage with hurricanes and tsunamis
One of my favorite passages in the Bible John 3:8 compares God's Spirit
to the wind, in the conversation between Jesus and Nicodemus, " the
wind blows where ever it wishes: you hear the sound it makes but you do
not know where it comes from or where it is going, it is like that with
everyone who is born of the Spirit..."
I thought about this passage as I went about some of my activities this past weekend.
A
A windstorm in Rocky last
August caused much damage to several cabins including 30-year-old cabins in senior boys camp,
fortunately all of whom were gone on outtrips. Over 50 trees had to be felled in the cleanup including this sample of one of the stumps cut down in aftermath.
Sunday morning shown here about 8 AM.... it was raining but calm on the lake, so I decided to take a two hour paddle around the perimeter. Wet, cold and silent, I could hear that gentle breeze moving through the reeds near the shore, watch muskrats dart in and out near the shore or curiously peer out from underneath a pier of these cottages across the lake from the camp.
Fall mirror like reflections included spruce and yellow turning larch trees
and a fallen weathering worn spruce or pine tree.
Coming back into the dock just before the lunch bell
and later yet another of those famous sunsets on Crimson Lake,
I thought again about the power of the wind and the value of silence...." Be still and know that I am God."
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