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  • It’s a windy, cloudy day. I love wind. I was just out in the front yard under my camphor tree sitting back in my Adirondack chair looking up at the tops of skinny old oaks swaying back and forth. There was a loose limb attached by moss to one of them, dangling like an empty trapeze. And a bluejay that sounded like it had laryngitis was doing a funny croaky thing. At first I thought it was a squirrel. And overhead, a turkey vulture was cruising on a thermal.

    It reminded me of a windy day nearly 40 years ago when my girls were little – maybe two and three. I took them out in the back yard with an old blanket and we sat in a reclining yard chair and pretended we were in a boat on the ocean. The wind was whipping the blanket around us like crazy. I was as excited as they were, hollering and saying things like, “Oh no, she’s going down! Hang on, mateys!”

    I’m back inside now, but I’ve got the windows wide open. I love wind.
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