The wind rattled so much that even the screws safely secured in wood, trembled. Against the wall outside, an old red tiled square mirror rescued from the trash went, “Bang, bang, bang…” Then,” Scrape, scrape, scrape…” blown in the opposite direction. The home made veranda was already tired of feet trodding across it non-stop; today the wind added insult to injury by sending sand and anything flyable on to it. The various screws implanted here and there holding things together sometimes had a wisp of a wire holding on to them – leftover reminders of three temporary pergolas and flowing curtains….
The grey plastic water barrel sitting under an overhang of the transparent roof made no noise. It sat there peacefully. It was comforting in its steadfastness. An occasional “Gloup, gloup,”as an escaped rain drop came down into the water below. Prisoner guards in the form of pine needles watched in steely silence from above.
With no noises to distract me, my ears attended to those sounds. The sounds of an every day existance, but ones in which most people didn’t hear. Now, the flapping of laundry on the north-west end of the house, competed with a nearby thin, squeaky bathrrom door, also built with wood. Even the washing machine called out to this wind orchestra as it reached the spin cycle. “Whirl, whirl, whirl, ” it went as it began to shake in earnest.
“Bang, bang, bang…
“Whirl, whiiiirllll, whiiiirl…”
“Flappy, flappidy, flap…”
And suddenly, a dog barked off in the distance. A true performer on a stage made of argelas, rosemary and thyme. A soloist in a provençal garden with trees, rabbits and birds as it’s listening public. One could only hear his voice….
“Woof, woof, woof…” It cried out.