Upon that windy day even the most casual shirt upon the line became as the sails of a great ship.
My stone cottage sat there in breeze and gale as if they were the same, hearth-fire keeping us all warm.
When the trees boughed to the wind, I did too, yet always in the opposite direction and holding onto my hat.
The windy days shook the last few autumnal leaves from the branches and the usual thoughts from my head, those branches and I awaiting new growth to spring forwards.
Nan always said those windy days came to blow the cobwebs from the soul and remind you that you were alive right there in that moment of time.
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