Blowing Down a Windy Day

Far away in the mountains huddled undulating plains behind the rock on which the wind sat. A dark dreadful wall began to rise over the horizon, formed of quite another sort of cloud than the fleecy ones whose folds the sun lolled in, or the intermediate ones wherein rain danced over the sea. It knew that energy sizzled, eager to break free and hail waited in the dark wrinkles of these clouds. Wind merrily ran from the cliffside to join in the celebration, and storm had come out to play.

The wind received its velocity across the plains, and nothing hindered it. It ran the faster and faster until it traveled at speeds that bent the meadow's grasses as easily as the few trees around the place. Gleefully, the scream of the storm pierced the still air as it flashed a brilliant greeting to wind across the sky. With a wild ha-ha-ha, the shout of the wind boomed across the flatlands below for kilometers. The storm flung small balls of hail and whirled them through the air, sending them smashing against houses and trees and rocks. The wind was freshened now and hurled the balls of ice around with a force that shattered panes, tore shingles from roofs, and lashed the few who, not being sensible enough, were caught outdoors. The hail began to increase in size.

Storm's laughter danced across the prairies, crackling triumphantly. Wind capered gaily around the storm. Storm jabbed a hot finger at a tree as it sliced across the sky. The wind hastened to the tree whirling at full speed ripped it out of the soil, roots and all, and flung it into the air. As it dropped the tree onto a barn that stood alongside, shattering both into small splinters of tinder, Storm let out a nasty giggle. Everything it danced by was still being scooped up by the wind, which pushed them into the maelstrom. Storm slammed a plow into the attic of a farm house, flung trees across the fields, and dropped a cow into high branches of a sycamore tree.

A little dizzy, the wind stopped its whirling and swooped across the cornfields, whooping with delight. Storm still streaked across the sky, pointing flame fingers at trees, beasts and all manner of other things for the wind to snatch up, then growling furiously when the wind didn't let go.

A small farmhouse was silhouetted as the brilliant white fire of the storm tore across the sky again. The wind whispered gingerly past it. As Storm flashed its fire at the dwelling a second time and then a third, its thundering laughter filled the sky. The wind surged, pirouetting over the plains with a savage elegance as it raced in ever-tighter circles. The small farm house lifted effortlessly off its foundation, its splintering tinder drowned out by the raucous laughter of the two irate companions. Playfully the wind flung it about, raising it higher and higher in the air, until tossing it with a sidelong motion into a storm. As the storm jammed the little shack against the side of a small hill, they were laughing merrily.

The cow, upon the sycamore tree, lowed plaintively as the wind slackened and strayed more lazily out upon the plain, quirking over the wreckage beneath with furtive delight. Now it looks as if the storm is dissipating. Half-heartedly, it threw some small hail balls and then gave wind a final goodbye as it was rolling its eyes in amusement at the damage the two had caused. Finally, it drifted off to nap early evening, folding into a ball of steel gray clouds after a long overheated drama.

It whined with fatigue as it drifted lazily back out across the plains, over the mountains, and settled on the edge of the cliff. Without the storm, there was virtually nothing to do, and worse still, there was no drive to accomplish anything.