Thursday, November 22, 2007

Wily weather

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.


  1. I missed this article yesterday (I must have been disturbed by the "Antipodes curtain").

    Wind - strange phenomenon. I always thought the wind is my friend: I read some books of German authors describing a gray windy day near the North Sea - I really wanted to be there; the atmosphere was unique and despite of the violence, it seemed to be quite peaceful - or better say the climatological events outside were an image of what happened in my mind, therefore I would rather say "harmony" than "violence". Unfortunately, I never had the opportunity to go to this part of Germany.

    This summer, I was in Brittany (in the area of Roscoff) for a week - a very gray and windy week! In the beginning I thought "great"! We walked on the beach by midnight listening to the sound of the angry sea, surrounded by a strong wind (we could hardly walk) - I enjoyed it!

    The problem started three days later: this fucking wind wouldn't stop and I said to myself: if it goes on like this for one more hour, it will drive me mad! I really got aggressive in the end (people who know me are surprised that I can keep calm in any situation).

    I still like the wind but I don't think I consider him(her?) as a friend any more. Although I prefer spending my time on my own, I do enjoy being with people. The difference: once I had enough playing a game in society, I can go home and close the door. But it is not possible to escape the wind. It is still going round and round, knocking at your door and windows, trying to get into your mind...

  2. Your comments on the wind are a splendid little poem in prose. I'm intrigued to discover that, to my way of thinking, your English-language comments here can be more intense and spontaneous than the French-language articles in your own blog. I often have the impression that I'm listening to the voices of two different individuals. And I hope you won't be offended when I say that I find your English voice more subtle and natural than the relatively intellectual author of your blog. We're all familiar, of course, with the observation that people often change their personality and apparent character when they switch languages. I find this particularly striking in your case. In any case, thanks so much for your constantly interesting comments, which are always kind as well as perspicacious.

  3. I'm very touched by your comment.
    You are perfectly right, we are different in function of the language we express ourselves.
    Am I more spontaneous because I write in English on your blog? Possible.
    Or may be your articles are more inspiring than French news I'm always ranting about on my blog...