The windows started rattling late Monday night. Another aftershock? When the metal glider in the yard tumbled backwards seconds later, her eyes quickly calculated the distance between the patio chair and the earthquake shelter beneath the dining room table. Maya Angelou has known for years why the caged bird sings; our heroine learned two weeks ago why Olympic high jumpers take such care in starting off on the right foot. What benefit might she obtain from gaining the shelter if she smacks her forehead on the table edge and suffers a concussion enroute?
Her right foot is planted and her backside is wiggling (to build up momentum) when the wind starts howling through the bare branches of the enormous ginko trees. The wind is a Doberman, a Rottweiller, a ferocious German Shepard with fangs bared and saliva dripping from its bone-crushing jaw as it relentlessly chases its own tail around the circumference of the concrete-walled house.
Definitely not an earthquake, decides the expert-come-lately. Not a tsunami either. Hopefully not something nuclear (which she pronounces correctly in deference to her beloved sister-in-law). What's left? A typhoon? That would be the positively, absolutely, utterly, final, last straw.
When in doubt, consult an expert, in this case Weather Explorer, a meteorologist married to a meteorologist. Weather decrees the wind is a "good wind". The succint declaration is reminiscent of and as comforting as the tone St. John adopted in writing his Gospel. Which is to say: very comforting.
Waking to the pitter-patter of little raindrops after a semi-good night's sleep, the expert-come-lately realizes the remarkable windstorm of the previous evening was none other than Japan's annual Haru Ichiban, the spring wind, the wind that comes roaring from the east-southeast every year around the time of the Spring Equinox to remind us that cherry blossom season will follow closely on the heels of a brief cold snap.
It's almost time to break out the sake. Cherry blossom celebrations will be subdued this year, and rightly so, but each tiny blossom will hold grains of hope and optimism, commodities to be treasured and cherished always but especially now.
No comments:
Post a Comment