Helen Richardson Espy, circa 1917
My Grandmother Espy didn’t like the wind. She frequently referred to it in her correspondence to family and friends and never in a positive way. “The wind howls,” she would write, “and we have all of winter ahead of us.”
I share her thoughts about wind. Perhaps it’s that we were both brought up in the climate of the San Francisco Bay Area where winds were, more often than not, of a kinder, gentler variety. Here on the Northwest Coast, not so much.
Yesterday was a truly gorgeous day in all respects except for the wind. Our Community Historian group met up at the Lewis and Clark Interpretive Center to learn the tricks of successful interpretation from the master, himself, Aaron Webster. The view from the room was spectacular – all blue sky and the forever ocean dotted with white caps as far as the eye could see. But getting to and from the building through the wind was painful and the lecture room never did warm up. Most of us kept hats and coats on for the duration.
It’s the dreaded East Wind – the wind that brings our coldest weather. Snow is predicted for today after 10 o’clock and those of us who live in Oysterville know that it won’t be long until the bay, itself, begins to freeze. We’ve closed off the east end of our house which helps some but only until bedtime. According to Mike’s trusty Long Beach weather site, the wind is only blowing at 22 to 24 miles per hour with gusts up to 34 mph. We must be in a vortex. It sure feels and sounds like more than that! I need an anemometer.
Freezing Bay, 2008
I thought I never would get to sleep last night despite the warm body next to me and the snuggly down comforter. As it was, I woke up more than once to the roar of the wind and the rattling of the storm windows. Speaking of which… I really don’t know how much good they do. The wind whistles through every crack and cranny and, I swear, right through the walls themselves. I blame my discomfort on age – the age of the house, that is. It’s 145 – almost twice my own age so I guess I should cut it some slack.
Ideally, I would hunker down in the most westerly part of the house – the kitchen – and maybe distract myself doing some baking until the wind dies down… You just can’t have too many chocolate chip cookies.
There is another aspect of “East Wind”….remembering the start of P.L. Travers’s “Mary Poppins”, bringing Mary to Cherry Tree Lane, carpet bag in one hand and parrot handled unbrella in the other was the east wind. For me, a P.L. Travers fan, east wind represents a something new to arrive. I wonder what will soon arrive on Territory Road. Be prepared for an unexpected arrival of ????? Wish it would be me, to see thee, alas, not arriving on the wind!
The East wind can be a bugger. Once, when the children and I lived in Chinook and were carless, my oldest son–then 13–got bored of that little berg and asked to ride his bike to see a friend in Long Beach. I warned him to pay attention to the light and head home in time to make it by dark. Twilight and the East wind began and no Josh. It was 1987 and we didn’t have a landline much less cell phones. From the phone booth across the highway I called my aunt and cousin, but one wasn’t home and the other hadn’t seen him. Josh has asthma and now he was peddling into the wind. I stood in the middle of highway 101 straining my eyes toward the West until my precious don came into view. This particular child gave me some frights growing up. Seeing him coming toward me was joyous.
I know what you mean about “storm windows.” They seem to mean storm friendly and let the cold in. My house is 118 year-sold, but being younger doesn’t mean warmer. Lost my precious plum tree to the weather today. Guess I can’t blame that on the storm windows, but it’s all slush in my mind. You said nothing about snow. Hope it misses you so near the beach. Hope you and the Wachsmiths stay warm and dry.
Oh-oh. What am I getting myself into? I’ll bring my layers!
By the way, I love the photo.