Since living by the sea in Whitstable, I am much more in tune with the changing weather patterns than I ever was. Windy days mean choppy seas, wild swims and bracing walks. So I wasn't especially concerned about Storm Eunice on Friday until I woke up to hear that we now had a rare "red" weather warning. Even then, it didn't seem any windier than normal as I headed out for a long walk in the early morning. It felt invigorating and noticeably quiet (where are all the dog walkers I wondered?). By the time we'd dashed out to the shops and got home, something was starting to shift.
Tucked inside our solid, warm house we could hear the roof creaking and wind whistling through gaps in the windows. Then we heard the first breaking sound outside over the loud thrum of wind. Even opening the front door felt hazardous as I crept out to see the debris of a large slate roof tile on the floor. I went to clear it up thinking it would blow around the cul-de-sac but quickly realised this was risky without putting a hard hat (bicycle helmet) on. Quickly back inside we heard another tile then another and another... Watching them fly over three story houses before shattering was incredible. This went on for what felt like hours. Finally by about tea time the tiles had stopped. The constant roaring noise of the wind continued until the late evening when there was just a slight drop in wind, enough to actually get to sleep.
Waking on Saturday morning, I was relieved to see blue sky and a respite from the wind. I had been due to travel to a yoga retreat during the eye of the storm, which had been sensibly delayed for a day. It was only an hour away, at a very solid, sturdy Quaker House which I reckoned could cope with any further storms pretty well. So by late afternoon, I was relaxing on my yoga mat under a warm blanket trying to help my body recover from the agitating and jarring winds that had just caused a certain amount of damage.
My favourite place at the Quaker House is the garden, full of so many ancient and varied trees including two Sequoia redwoods. As the windy weather returned with Storm Franklin, I watched these amazing trees stand firm while being endlessly buffeted by gusts. Tucked in the far corner I saw that one tree was leaning over more than normal and was being held by two other trees. Thankfully, the winds weren't as strong as Eunice and the sound of the wind in the trees was both soothing and refreshing. One tree in particular felt ancient and unshakeable as I sat peacefully against its enormous trunk, absorbing some of its steady energy. I was sure this was the "Mother Tree" of the garden that has the largest root system, helping all the other trees grow.
Sometimes it is hard to remain steady with so much stormy weather, on-going Covid situation and global political tensions. Yet being in the garden gave me a sense of calm even with stormy times going on around us. Not only do the solid trees seem resilient and steady, so too are the beautiful spring flowers that are just appearing. Purple crocuses and snow drops are happily growing throughout the garden and barely seemed to even notice that nearly hurricane strength gusts of winds had just blown across them.
While sometimes I feel like hiding away in a cave at the moment until calm returns, I can also remember our yoga teacher's sage advice: to take a few minutes a few times each day to just pause, breathe and be still. And by doing this, we can stay both steady like the solid Sequoia trees and soft in our hearts like the hardy spring flowers.
"You can't calm the storm... so stop trying.
What you can do is calm yourself.
The storm will pass".
Sounds like your part of town had the strongest winds. I enjoyed reading about the steady trees in the garden and those hardy flowers.
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