My sister and I were talking about the wind last night. Although our houses are visible to each other, she is in a valley and I am on the top of a hill. There is always a breeze at my house. Weather is more apparent to me. So when we were talking, I said, "it sounded like a train landing...and that was NOT a mixed metaphor." It was with great amazement that upon inspection this morning, the only thing I found was a roof shingle on the front yard. Unfortunate, but not unusual.
The funny part of this story - at least to me (and my sister was highly amused as I shared it with her) revolves around the remedy I discovered last year for the groundhog family undermining the front steps. They were a very stubborn group, reluctant to leave that particular tunnel system. We tried a lot of things - both gentle and not so gentle... some downright diabolical... but still the groundhogs remained. Some of the shrubs in the area died (note: shrubs do not do well when doused with peppermint oil), but the groundhogs continued eating my perennials and digging away under the steps. Eventually someone told me that they don't like noisy surroundings. AHA! I stuck up some windchimes near the hole. They either began hibernation early OR they've moved on. I am quite certain that they are out there procreating as I write, as they are mutants and indestructable.
The thing that seems sort of funny is that the wind chime is right outside my bedroom window. It was so lovely in the warmth of summer. The constant gentle breeze on the hill allowed for an ongoing chiming background that made me smile on those occasions when I was even aware of it. In the fall and winter, the chiming let me know when there was "weather" going on, sometimes awakening me to check before sending the young'un out unaware into icy conditions. It's all good, right? Until last night. I've gotten used to living on a windy hill. It took a couple of springs, but I'm ok with it now. The sound of wind trying to rip off siding and shingles is no biggie. The gusts that shake the house and rattle the windows are no longer frightening. However, last night the wind chimes sounded like perhaps Zeus was pounding out some armor. Every so often the wind would die down for 30 seconds or so - long enough for me to doze off - only to rise again with a resounding clanging and banging. It was an astoundingly loud night. I can hear the groundhogs laughing, off in the distance.
Here, you can see the furniture on the back deck. Some of it is still standing, so this is not the worst wind we've seen.
So, my tenacious little friends the woodchucks will once again get some of my attention this spring. I'm already plotting. The wind? That's just life on the hill.