It is quite windy today. When I first moved to Chicago, if I told people I had moved there, they would always say something along the lines of, “Oh, the windy city, eh?” and then follow it with a giggle or a chuckle. To which I would respond, “Actually, it is really windy in the different streets, almost like tunnels, or at times I feel like I am swimming upstream!” and then follow with my own chuckle or giggle. To which they respond, “Oh, it can’t be that bad!”
Well, today, it is that bad in Waukegan. And in many other places if I was paying enough attention to the news. This storm that is about is manifesting here in the wind. But, even with this forceful wind, I have found a sense of beauty in watching the leaves flutter across the ground.
Like they are dancing. Swirling, twirling, up, down, around, crossing the street and circling back. A lovely fox trot of the fallen leaves of autumn. I would not blame them for lying on the ground and refusing to move, the winter did come much too soon for them to live out their full lives in vibrant color. But instead, they ride the winds of the day and frolic just above the pavement, pirouetting, sashaying, and grand jete-ing down the block.
I wonder what tune the wind whistles so that the wilted weather transforms to a tango or waltz. So the leaves leap and lunge and loop. Dancing, divinely, despite the dreary draft. Blowing, blustering, brewing a ballet of blades and petals performing a perfect polka.
Leaves dancing in the wind.