The wind keeps us awake, the past few nights. It blows little black berries off one of the palm trees (they’re too small for me to call them proper dates — though they are as sticky as dates), and they hit the back deck with a surprising amount of force. The fact that it’s these wild gusts instead of a steady wind unsettles me. Just when I doze off, something rattles or whooshes outside and I wake up. And dry — the moisture has sucked out of Southern California, to make snow elsewhere I suppose. We do not have a semi-arid but a fully-arid climate today.
Last night when I took the dog out for his final walk of the evening, I saw a shooting star. You’d have thought the wind blew it, except it moved in the opposite direction. It was there in the eastern sky (slightly southeast) for an instant, slanting in almost horizontally northward, a golden yellow flame, brilliant and burning, soon extinguished.
I thought of the Sara Teasdale poem, The Falling Star — after I made a quick wish.
Was it a late Leonid, or an early Geminid, or something in between — maybe a Puppids-Velids? Or just a stray puppy, for that matter? I don’t know, but I feel lucky since seeing it. Lucky to have seen it, lucky to be here, lucky the wind hasn’t blown the house into the Land of Oz. Luck is good.
1.
Windy nights are unsettling to me as well. I don’t sleep well at all. Especially if Don isn’t home.
Cas
I saw a shooting star (or something)only once. And I’ve seen Northern lights twice. There’s something magical about both.
Comment by cassie-b — December 3, 2006 @ 3:49 pm
2.
I love the thought of the meteor looking windblown. And you grow your own figs! Sounds exotic to a northeasterner. You’re the second blogger in a row who mentioned those gusts as unsettling. The wind scares our cat. I hate it because the power tends to go out.
Comment by Eric Mayer — December 3, 2006 @ 7:47 pm
3.
Lucky, too, to have found your blog… and your sensitive observations on life and books. Maybe blogs are like shooting stars, containing words that speed across the screen in front of us like stars across the sky, vanishing when we look (or click) away, images that illuminate our imaginations long after they’re gone… and we’re in bed, listening to the wind?
Comment by Bruce Black — December 4, 2006 @ 8:25 am
4.
Barbara: I would like to contact you via email. Is that possible? Best, Reenie
Comment by Reenie — December 5, 2006 @ 4:35 pm
5.
Hi Reenie … Good to hear from you!
Everyone, please feel free to use my Contact link. See the Navigation menu at the top left of the page. You must type in the not-so-secret word for the contact form to work, to prove you’re human and not a s-word-bot. Also, if you include your email address when you comment — in the comment form, not the body of the comment — I can see it, but no one else can.
Comment by Barbara — December 5, 2006 @ 10:05 pm
6.
What a lovely post…makes me a little nostalgic for California…
If I wasn’t so in love with Asheville, that is. Great to hear from
you. xo
Bev
Comment by Beverly Jackson — December 6, 2006 @ 2:20 am
7.
We have a wind-alley where we live…so many times in the winter it keeps us awake. So, I sympathize completely.
Comment by violetismycolor — December 6, 2006 @ 3:57 pm
8.
The winds have died down, but it is still dry, dry, dry and even drier than that. Every time I pet a cat the static electricity crackles and the cat jumps away. I’ve tried a rain dance-think it will work?
Comment by Sarah — December 8, 2006 @ 8:10 am
9.
Barbara, I think those little “dates” are palm tree fruits. Supposedly they have a sweet skin or outer layer, but I’m not certain it’s safe to eat. That’s just the way I saw it described, sweet. Anyway, they are mostly pit or seed. I have a fig tree in my yard, but unfortunately it’s an ornamental fig that produces little hard, orange balls! Oh, for a real fig or date tree in my yard. Couldn’t see shooting stars for the lights and close houses in Tierrasanta.
Comment by Georganna Hancock — December 9, 2006 @ 6:45 pm
10.
This was a beautiful post. For a nanosecond, I was a bit weepy for Southern California, but the gusts magically dried up my tears.
Speaking of lucky, we are lucky to have your keen sense of observation. I always enjoy your posts – the attention to details makes everything so very real and remembered. xoxo
Comment by Reenie — December 11, 2006 @ 4:08 pm