Today I am lucky to have another sunny morning, with a light breeze. Where I live, a light breeze is welcome. (the lake likes to give us gusting wind) The soft kiss on my cheek to let me know the wind blowers are still about. One should never take the wind blowers for granted.
They are brothers and sisters, in a constant battle for supremacy. Some days they work in unison, but usually they like to fight. Just watch the clouds as they float by. Some are pushed one way, and other the opposite. “Don’t push your clouds to me,” they holler at each other. Us mortals only hear it as wind whistling through the trees. Sometimes they rage, and if you are on the sea, you suffer the wrath.
I enjoy when the breeze is about. My windchimes tell dark spirits to stay away, and help fairies flit about the petals of my flowers. When a dandelion is ready to burst its white seeds, a breeze helps them dance. “Farewell” say the fairies, for it is they who nurtured the dandelion to this point. They are sad for only a breath, for more flowers require their attention.
Today I will listen to the whispers. The wind has many stories, and if you listen with your imagination, you might be lucky enough to hear one.