The wind howls

I wanted to walk the dog and myself first thing this morning but it was raining heavily and so I put it off till after lunch.

The countryside was heavenly, the wide open space, the air, the smell of wet grass and wild flowers. The wind was howling around a telegraph pole, making a wailing noise as if there was a wounded child among the half-grown sunflowers.

I love the wind. I have written “The wind blew the words onto the paper.” in a file somewhere, as the first sentence in a tribute to the wind.

I’m reading The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafon. I am enjoying the slow pace of it. I’m in no hurry to get to the end.

Howard Hodgkin:
Paul Levy
None but the brave deserves the fair
In the Bay of Naples