MAKING MY PEACE … with the mayhem of windy days


Making My Peace … with the mayhem of windy days


Wind creates mayhem in my life. Not always, but usually. Today I hated the wind even more than usual as Meteo-France announced wind warnings across Paris and the Petite Ceinture – a former two-track railway line that used to run along the perimeter of Paris.

In France, rolling strikes stemming from the government’s intent to raise the retirement age has impacted fuel deliveries, transport, and garbage collection. Strong winds today sent garbage flying down Parisian streets. It was enough to give me the blues.

My first thought was to rush home from my morning walk. Instead, I digressed. A hundred metres from home, I turned into a small community garden. No one was there, except a policeman. Eyeing me suspiciously, he asked what I was doing.

I was taking photographs of strike-piled rubbish bins before spotting some heart-warming daffodils, crocuses, and cherry blossoms. “Ah,” he said, “vous prenez des photos de la belle nature – you are taking pictures of beautiful nature.” And he smiled. “Bien sur – of course,” I said. We chatted briefly about the early signs of spring.

The wind whipped up and the policemen blew his whistle at a man walking across the lawn. Lawn is sacred in Paris – woe betide anyone who walks on it. The man acknowledged the policeman and walked on quickly.

I was reminded of two poems about the wind. Georgian poet Galaktion Tabidze (1892-1959) wrote the words: “whirls the wind, whirls the wind, whirls the wind, and the leaves whirl.” It always comes to my mind on days like this. This morning I added a poem to one of my blogs, about a young American girl Hilda Conkling (1910-1986) who wrote the poem March Thought with the lines:

I am waiting for the flowers

To come back;

I am alone,

But I can wait for the birds.

That’s what I was doing, alone waiting for the spring flowers and waiting for the birds – both always cheer me up.

The policeman let his whistle swing on its cord tied to his uniform. As the wind pushed me backwards, he said “L’amour est comme le vent, nous ne savons pas d’où il vient.”

With those words, my day got better. He had spoken the words of the famous French novelist Honoré de Balzac (1799-1850) – “Love is like the wind, we don’t know where it comes from.”

Thank goodness for poetry, great authors, and people who read.

Making my peace with the mayhem of windy days, I learned the following:

  • Take time to look for something positive in the day
  • Connecting with nature is healing
  • Be glad of distractions
  • A smile is valuable
  • Small talk can lead to profound realizations.

Martina Nicolls: Rainy Day HealingMAKING MY PEACE

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