The wind that stole my heart

And the stories it told

Hello, I’m Molly and I write about my slow and simple life in the Scottish Highlands. Please subscribe to support my work and to read more of my stories. You can also find me on YouTube and shop my Etsy Store and sustainable Teemill Clothing.

The wind is angry. It howled through the night. Thrashing against our home in savage bursts. Turning the garden into a battlefield of disarrayed items. It’s a slow morning with tired eyes as we went about the familiar job of restoring the garden to order. We are well used to this weather in the Scottish Highlands.

Later, the wind still tugs at my clothes and makes my waterproofs rattle. My eyes sting as my hair is whipped across my face. The figure of our dog ahead of me blurs. My tears melting the present with the past. I have followed many dogs down winding grassy paths in my life.

The trees bend and sway in an evocative dance. Broadleaves stripped of their remaining leaves; they appear starkly naked against the ominous grey sky. The river chokes with this sludgy brown debris. The smell of decay tangible as we stomp through rippling puddles. Muddy water splattering my leggings.

Birds allow themselves to be taken by the day’s violent breath. Flocks of small bird’s flicker between the trees. Coal tits, siskin, long tailed tits and chaffinches. Seeking safety and warmth in numbers.  Buzzard’s float upwards, like a feather caught in the breeze. Their outraged mewing audible as they are mobbed by carrion crows. Inky kites dominating the sky.

Every wind has its own spirit. In the Highlands, the wind comes from the mountains. Although often less ferocious than the coast, it has a depth of cold like no other. A sharpness that numbs my cheeks and fingertips. Without the sea to compete with, it is the only sound that dominates the land. These hills have been here forever and the wind echoes with the past.

I met a new wind with my different childhood homes. I would chase the softer gusts through the endless hills of the peak district. It was a wind straight out of an Austen movie. I watched it wrinkle my dresses as I lay amongst wildflower strewn meadows. Their was a laziness to this breeze.

Later, I would stand firm against the brutal coastal winds on a Scottish Island. The salt would cling to my lips and eyelashes. I’d watch the sea and sky becoming one untamed being of blue, grey and white. A landscape of constant change, it was invigorating. You would never meet the same wind twice.

Although I am now in my 30’s, this weather will always enliven a childish glee. My spirit soars and I let the troubles of my heart drift away. Surrendering to the power of nature. My inspiration. My teacher. My home.

Molly xx