My place felt cold this morning when I woke. I pulled the cover up over my shoulder and snuggled in, not yet ready to get up. I could hear the wind blow in the rattle of the screen door, the movement of the trees and the faint notes of my neighbour’s brass wind chimes.
We’ve had above freezing temperatures and clear days, enough that I’ve felt no need to check the weather channel for the forecast. It felt dreary, and I wouldn’t have been surprised to get up and see snow on the ground, winter’s last hurrah.
My place is on a court, but behind me is the corner of the property, marked with a border of tall evergreens. When the wind moves between my unit and the one next door there’s a ‘dead ended canyon’ sort of effect. With nowhere else to go the wind swirls back and aims right for my front door.
All winter long it’s been this way, with snow blowing and piling up at my door, when my neighbours’ entries are blown clear. It was the same in the fall as the leaves accumulated in my space. In the summer I’ll be glad to have that breeze blow in my window, but for the fall and winter it is a royal pain.
At least when I finally got myself up and dressed, it was to discover blue skies and no snow, windy, but not so cold that wind chill is a scary prospect.
We’re at a change of seasons, but winter always has a few tricks to play before it reluctantly gives way to spring. I wish she’d just get it over with and go away.