I emerged from Waverley Station at the precise moment that a gust of wind bellowed through the stairwell and pushed me backwards. It was just a little stumble, but it was just enough to send the thin skirt of my dress flying. I had a heavy, long coat on that reached just above my knees. Long enough to protect my modestly, thank goodness, but it made me walk with caution, teetering on 3-inch heels al the way to work.
As I wandered along York Lane, the wind was still there, kicking up dirt and leaves, creating a little dance of colour on the crowded sidewalk.
On the train journey home, as the wind pushed the clouds off west, the trees swayed back and forth, back and forth, as though being rocked to sleep. It made me drowsy and eager for my bed.
Now, as I write, I can see trees, flowers and yellow trimmed bushes swaying in the wind. The cat has come in shivering, shaking off some light rain from her coat. It’s funny how something as simple as a windy day can change the way to look at things, the way you walk, what you wear…
Look out the window and write what the wind is doing.