The wind here in Ireland is usually strong and powerful, paired with strong rainfall. It's not very often that we have winds without the rain. There's something about the wind that is as soothing as it is powerful. With its promise of destruction, it also brings the destruction of other things, mainly some emotions and voice. Here, you can go to the beach at any given (windy) day, scream your lungs out and not a soul will hear ya. I'm sure this has been used in people's advantage in Ireland's dark past. Take a few people who don't want you around, the Wicklow mountains, or the bog, and the wind, and no one will ever hear from or see you again...
But I'm drifting off...

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Yesterday was different

It was late when I opened the door to let one of the cats in. I noticed that the wind was beautifully strong, but there was no rain and surprisingly: it wasn't cold. This weather, and the little bit of warm summer weather we have here, are about the only types of weather I can handle here. The other day we had a thunderstorm. I hate those. They're not very frequent here, but when they happen, it seems like all hell broke loose. And this time, the lightning struck...somewhere pretty damn close. I later found out it had struck a tree, no more than 150 meters from our house...😨. Then the rains came, they always do. But last night was different...

I decided it was a great idea to go for a walk. The kiddos were all fast asleep, only my eldest and her boyfriend (who seems to be a permanent resident these days...the extra son) were still watching something on Netflix. I let my daughter know what I was up to, and she looked at me, with a question mark, but knowing better than to question my plans once I've set out to do something. We've been 1 + 1 plus later a few 'trailers' for more than 17 years now, and usually, a look is enough to understand what the other is trying to say.
So I put on my rubber boots (they call them Wellies here, and somehow I've always hated that name, not sure why that is). It was dry, but that doesn't mean the soil is not soaking wet. I might be crazy sometimes, I'm not completely stupid.
The idea of those boots proved to be better in thought than practice, as it later turned out. But we're not quite there yet...

I grabbed my jacket and whistled for the dogs. They were probably more surprised than my daughter was for I never really bring them out for a walk at 2 a.m. but they weren't going to question me either and just happily danced around as thanks for the prospect of a run. Another thing in their favour: at this time of the night, there's no need for a leash, so as soon as I opened the gate, they were off and within 2 counts, I didn't see them anymore. In spite of this, I decided not to bring a flashlight. There is no light pollution here, the sky was clear and the stars bright enough to illuminate my path. Just not the dogs. My cat Ninja decided to follow, she does that with any walk. If I don't keep a healthy distance, however, she will jump on my back, to crawl into my neck and hitch a ride, which can be quite startling and painful (especially in the summer) so I always just pick up my step a bit and 'leave her behind'. She complains when I do that, but doesn't make much of an effort to keep up, even though she easily could. Instead, she just loudly reminds me that she isn't impressed by my actions.
This time, I agree...

We walked across our field. If I walk around it, with this kind of terrain, and if I take my time, it takes me about 50 minutes to get back to the house. I didn't want to do that this time and the dogs didn't seem to either, so I made my way diagonally across. The field runs straight on till about half-way, and then slightly slopes. Just before the slope, and including, the land turns into marshland after a few days of rain. The wind was lashing around me and brought small parts of tree material with it. I already didn't hear the windchimes outside of the house, just the wind and its ancient song. A song of memories, good and bad. Love and hope. And at the same time, a cleansing.
I have always loved these kinds of winds. I love them here, loved them before elsewhere. I didn't appreciate them in Las Vegas though, because winds always turned into sand storms. I used to call it 'getting sand-blasted' if I had to leave the house.

The ocean is the best place for wind, these kinds of near-gale force winds that could take out a barn or a shed if it picked up the pace. Beautifully pure and brutal, with a pinch of destruction and chaos, showing its powers and that of the ocean.

The wind...

was blowing through me and against me, almost made me lose my balance once or twice. The water on the field seemed to be dancing and lashed across my face in some places. I didn't mind, it wasn't rain, and I needed this.
I've done stupid things before, but lately, stupidity had taken over. I took all my insecurities and bad experiences from the past, and didn't project them, no, I poured them all over someone who didn't deserve it. At all. And I managed to mess up the one good thing, aside from my kids, that had been lighting up my life...

When I heard one of the dogs bark at the other, I decided to walk in their direction, and because of it, I didn't look where I was going. My left foot touched the ground, just for a moment, before the water that was lurking, slurped down my boot.
Because I was going too fast, I couldn't regain myself, and gravity plus my weight on that one foot made sure it went into the mud more than ankle deep. To make matters worse, the other foot went too, making me stuck in the mud completely. The wind almost knocked me over, so I leaned against it. But of course, I lost my balance and ended up sitting in the mud. The cat came to have a laugh...
There was no way out of this mudbath, and I gave up trying to get the boots out, so I pulled my feet out, socks off, managed to pull out the boots, and kept on walking. Feeling the cold, wet marshland under my bare feet, brought me back to myself a little. Grounding, for sure. I don't do it enough. The rough and somewhat spikey meadow-grass combined with soft, wet clay and sometimes grit and even stones hurt, not all the time, but sometimes enough to bring tears to my eyes.
But that didn't stop me. I walked to the edge of the field, where the wind is at its strongest and just stood there to feel the power, and its energy.

When I came back to the house, there were more puzzled looks from both my daughter and adopted son, and then they both burst out laughing at the sight of the mud monster that had just entered the house. The dogs? Completely clean.

I took a long shower, got in front of the computer screen and finished the first chapter of the book I've started to write many years ago, lost, but remembered, and now started again.
The main character in the story managed to come alive once more, but better, and more real than before...

The wind, to me, is like a surprise encounter. When you find something when you weren't looking for it: it comes when you least expect it, and when it's gone, it's always missed.

Thank you for reading!