My southern yard symphony is playing again today. The wind is wrestling the leaves about. The wind chimes are not blowing in the wind, just quietly tingling in time with the drip, drip, drip of the rain gutters. The drips are the drum beats of the symphony. When my trash can blows over it’s like the sound of a timpani drum, an exclamation in the quiet time.

The wind is blowing on only one side of the street right now. My bushes aren’t even rustling. I’m watching the magnolia trees across the street in rhythmical step with the two big fir trees. The magnolias are bowing their heads. The fir trees were planted on the Handley home place when my mother was a little girl. They’re several stories tall now with strong double trunks. They’re not bending in the strong wind but their branches are arm wrestling with the wind gusts.

The cedar waxwings’ flying pattern is in synch with the music of the yard. They are dancing in the air to the wind chimes, finding their rhythm in the wind’s symphony. As the rain begins again, they fly like a wave in the ocean in time with the earth’s heartbeat.

My pots of pansies are standing straight up at attention waiting to catch the raindrops with their petals. They are hoping for some cooler days.

Now the wind has really increased and the fragile white blooms of the Bradford pear trees down the street are blowing across my yard like snow flakes. A pine straw needle just landed on my iPad. He came from the backyard of two houses down the street. That must have been quite a ride. Noticed he brought a nickel size piece of pine tree bark with him. I put them on the banister so they can continue their journey. A branch of mistletoe just fell off my oak tree. If Chief were here I’d grab it and hold it over our heads. I can see the glimmer in his eyes and hear the love in his voice now.

Our street used to be lined in huge oak trees. They are a few of them left. When my grandchildren were little we’d walk down the street to see the huge oak tree roots in a neighbor’s yard. Alexander would call them dinosaur feet. They did look just like the feet of a T-Rex. Always thrilled him to walk down there.

Mother Nature has been finger painting with pollen today on canvases of sycamore and magnolia leaves. Penelope kept barking at the sycamore leaf as it scraped across the sidewalk in the wind so I went to pick it up and noticed it was painted with pollen. Saw a magnolia leaf beside it, heavily painted in pollen, too. Never noticed this before.

Oldest brother came over and sat in the swing a while. His finches have returned and he’s happy. He’s still searching for native azaleas around his woods and cleaning brush from around them. We both loves blooms and birds. The wind picked up and blew rain in on the swing so he decided to cut his visit short and go home. I came in the house and retreated to the lady den when he left.

Wind is an interesting character. Sailboats welcome him and hot gardeners wish for him to cool off their sweat. Wind can be a gentle breeze, soft and cool, but when he’s angry he can be a formidable force with his tornado and hurricane blowing. Mother earth needs her wind to live. Without the wind the equator would be too hot and the poles would freeze. Wind distributes heat around our planet. Wind blows seeds and pollen around and powers wind turbines. Never thought much about wind till he pushed the swing today with me sitting in it.

As long as the sun shines the wind will blow.