SYMPHONY

The wind is howling this morning.

It is 5 a.m. and it sounds like the dead of winter, instead of the beautiful Autumn we are about to experience. The flags now in darkness are flying every which way, a psychedelic dance if ever there was one. Hoisted atop the shed, the porch and the little one stuck in the ground saying Boo! in honor of Halloween, they are used primarily to determine which way the wind is blowing; from the north or the south. Wind off the lake is cooler; in the summer months it means open the windows as wide as they go! In the cooler times, they are closed half way, like a giant wink around the house.

But today they are just a reminder of the storms brewing elsewhere, trying to find their way inland. The moonlight touches briefly upon each square end as if kissing it good morning.

The winds are beauty unto themselves. The sound of whistles and deep cello, the catgut bow draws slowly over it bulbous belly. Back and forth, up and down. In the background, the never-ending pounding of the waves against the shoreline is mesmerizing.

An errant goose tries to fly into the wind, the sound of its honking drowned. The symphony of the Lake has begun again, and it will last all day I am sure.

The trees are beginning to lose their leaves, shedding the best part of themselves in order to prepare for their long sleep. The birds hang on deep inside, nests and perches all but barren, used up and ready to be blown away. Nature's giant leaf blower will deposit them on our lawn, waiting patiently to be scooped up and spread over the orchards.

There is no sound in the house as I listen to the symphony. The dogs are sleeping, as is my beloved. A long night shift completed, he has come home to our open arms and gently falls asleep. I close the door and begin the chores of the day.

Life is good.