I do not like the wind. It’s destructive, messy, annoying, and (around here) hazardous.
In December 1977, a bunch of the San Joaquin Valley was blown up into the atmosphere by nasty winds and then scattered to parts as far away as the bay area. Last night the breeze turned into a wind. It went on for hours and continued until the rain finally arrived late this afternoon. I woke up to part of my tender lemon tree broken and hurled around quite a few obstacles and heading out to the street.
Confirmation from the weathervane indicates that part of the Valley is heading north again. It seems to be a constant exchange we have. Guck from the north floats south and fills our skies here until a wind comes through and lobs it back their way with a big “Thank you very much”. Shards from the broken terra cotta will be re-assigned and the bay tree is seeking a new home.
Perhaps if I owned a share of one of those wind mills up in Tehachapi I might like the wind a bunch more. Until then, I do not like the wind.