A strong wind has been blowing at Gamone for several days, destroying a relatively young walnut tree and driving me mad.
Today, all has become quiet. Fourteen years ago, when I discovered my future home, I often used to tell people that it was a place where nothing could fall onto my head... meaning that Gamone was not located beneath precarious rocky slopes. True enough. But we can't escape from violent autumn winds, which can be no less harmful than falling rocks.
The windy weather at Gamone disturbs me because of its wily nature. One moment, all is calm, and I have the impression that the tempest has moved on. But the silence is eery. A few seconds later, the woods on the other side of Gamone Creek start murmuring, then hurling, as they capture the wind. And bedlam is soon resuscitated.
The sun heats you up. Winter chills you. We know we'll get wet by standing in the rain, or frozen by sleeping in the snow. We pay attention, take ordinary precautions... and nobody gets hurt. The problem with the wind is that we never know how it's going to behave. It's wily weather, not to be trusted. I've always hated the wind.