Friday, January 12, 2007


The wind's howling again.

And last night it didn't just howl. It shouted, it roared. The trees didn't rustle, they thundered. The windows didn't rattle, they impersonated machine-gun fire.

Each gust bore down on the house like a distant train rushing closer. For the really big gusts, you held your breath and it raged down the valley, and gasped when it savaged the trees opposite our house.

The house breathed. Flexing its floors like ribs, gusting its cool, slightly fusty breath through open rooms and around closed doors.

At one point I whimpered to Husband, "I'm scared."

After a few minutes, he lifted the cover on his side of the bed, raised an arm and invited me across for a cuddle. "C'mon then..."

A pause. "Nah. I'm comfy."

Cue much muttering and grumbling from Husband's side of the bed. He should know by now that to speak my fear is to halve it... ;-)


At 4:42 pm, Blogger liz fenwick said...

Anna, I loved that description. I know exactly what you are writing about. Have felt it but you made it so beautifully visual. Thanks


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