Windsongs
I love the sound of the wind as it ruffles the leaves in a tree; it can sound like the sea, the way it [the sea] whips across the top of the waves, catching its breath on the tips of waves full to bursting with glee as they race toward the shore. It’s a sound from my childhood. At night on ‘Mangarouhi’ (childhood farm) when the wind played reckless hide and seek in the pine trees at the back of my little bach (New Zealand name given to a self-contained house usually separate from the main house... Sign in to see full entry.