Random thoughts on Wind and Trash Cans

The wind woke me up last night. I like wind and thunder and lightening. A good storm finds me and my off-spring on our porch savoring the storm. It must be my Scot blood. The sound of wind at night usually comforts me. I feel so safe in my house. In the summer my windchimes accompany the sighing song of the skies, but last night the wind was mournful. The windchimes have been retired for winter, because after Labor Day they tend to chatter and clatter like my teeth when I'm out too long in the cold. Last night the wind wasn't unaccompanied though. The unmelodious sound of garbage cans rolling around on gravel was the counterpoint to the moaning of the wind and the splattering of rain. I tossed and turned for awhile, frustrated that I was losing sleep. Then a long suppressed memory tickled my fancy. It didn't have to do with wind but with trash cans. I'd gone to a high school dance with a young man - not the young man of my dreams, but a "nice" boy who I couldn't think of any reason to turn down other than I really didn't want to go with him. I tried to be kind without leading him on. I sensed I'd failed as he followed me to the doorstep to say goodnight. I was desperately trying to decide how to get in the house without embarrassing either of us when some stray cats started fighting in our old metal trashcans. Their hissing, snarling, yowling was music to my ears. The clatter of the trashcan lid, the sudden flash of lights from inside the neighbors house, and the panic I saw in my date's darting eyes delighted me. I was safe. I remember joyously laughing out loud and smiling as I safely let myself in and locked the door behind me leaving that poor boy alone on my doorstep cursing cats. Since then I've always had a soft spot for alley cats. I wonder if I should bait our trash cans when my daughter starts dating?

The wind has calmed today, most of our autumn leaves have fallen and blown away. I usually don't like this time it seems so bleak, but today there's something very brave about the few scarlet leaves that are clinging to the tree in front of my window. They cheer me with their holding on.