Last week, while I was in Michigan enduring torrents of rain, there was a wind storm here. Apparently 60 mile-an-hour wind gusts killed power for much of the state. Tonight, while hiking with two of the dogs, I saw evidence of that wind.
Whole trees knocked over, like bowling pins, from the force of air. Spirals of roots twisting around rocks and earth, upturned in a harrowing show of force while the rest of the forest lie patient and undisturbed.
Wind, a convection current made up of simple particles of air and gases, changes and shapes the earth, stirs the ocean and uproots trees, houses, cars, buildings - like a Dorothy in some weird earthly drama.
Cold air, like a child vying for the limelight, anxiously awaits the moment when warm air rises and converges with the clouds. Then, the cool air steps in.
The cool air cannot step in fast enough tonight. I had hoped to hook the dogs up with the rig for a training run, but the air around this place is currently heavy and warm. Jan wrote to say she hooked up for the first training run this season, temperatures this morning at 38 degrees in the U.P.
So, tonight, we trekked to the park, watching the sun set in its lavish display of sexy colors, red and orange, seductive. Mandy and Foxy stop at a small stream for water, and a big frog startles, its long legs jumping in the frenzy of escape. It watches us, then, from a drain pipe, big eyes still and fixed.