The Traveler

A cool front came through quietly in the night after the rain.  Like a stealth bomber it surrounded everything with the driest coolest air. With coffee in hand, I smiled during my early morning walk across the front yard as an alter reality reminded me not of spring but of fall.  I swear, I almost heard crickets!  All of my roses and other flowers were smiling and sighing as well.  They were at peace because the warmer more humid air had retreated as we marched headlong into summer.

By noon, new strong winds pulled and tugged at the tree leaves and made the 50 foot high tree limbs dance in drunken pleasure and must have frightened any nested birds that had not yet flown.  The wind roared against the side of the house and kept the air cooler although the sun did his best to make it warmer.  In the shade it was May and in the sun it was June.  Strong gusts pushed leaves and small dead branches across my driveway in a race for first place.  It made the Coreopsis bob its new yellow blossoms as if they were part of a rap group.

I sat under the tiny arbor reading and smelled the air and then began thinking about where this rushing air had begun its journey.  Was it born in the slide of some crystal mountain glacier?  Did it begin in a high dessert that was still in spring?  The air was fresh with oxygen as if from some mountain top.  It raced past my face and pushed up my hair.  I wondered if it had come from an Alaska ocean and had touched the backs of salmon and the feathers of high eagles before it rushed across the continent to my tiny woods.  Had it surfed across some snow drift in a shaded valley far, far from here?

What secret messages had it brought that I missed with my limited language skills?  Was it miffed that my e-reader had no pages to flip capriciously.  What inspiration brought this joy ride?

Yes, it was in a hurry and will only race across here for a few days.  Soon we will be back to quiet summer with its angrier storms and heavier air.