WINDS OF MEMORY

Otago Daily Times, Issue 22457, 29 December 1934, Page 10

WINDS OF MEMORY

AN IDYL OF AN OLD OTAGO FARM By Jennifer Kendall. The wind bloweth where it listeth, thou heai'est the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it comes. It comes from the north; at intervals from early dawn eager little faces are pressed against the window panes. Ah, the wind is blowing from the north; will it rain to-day? So quietly it blows at first, no one would ever suspecu the dreadful things it can do. Slowly it gathers the mist from the sea and from the hills, faster then, it sweeps the little clouds together and heaps them in one great grey mass. Lower and lower it drives them till they rqst on the crest of the Kocky Range. Faster and fiercer it blows and anxious eyes watch the mist sweep down the hillside. Now Pigeon Rock is covered, then the Razor Back, gradually the Tattie Pit is lost to view. Anxiously we watch, for if the driving fog drifts over Blue Cum Hill all is lost; a wet day is inevitable.. Slowly but surely the hill fades from view, dampness touches the rosy faces and the cold wind gently lifts the golden curls. Now the mist has turned to a thick drizzle, and with fierce joy the wind hurries it down over the tussocky ridge; it patters loud on the roof, while the wind, now roused and angry, howls and shrieks round the old brick house. With gusty sighs of disappointment the children take refuge before thi glowing kitchen fire and endeavour to console themselves with books and apples. A cold wet wind, this wind that blows from the north, a blustering, arrogant wind, that vexes the hopeful hearts of childhood!

It blows from the west. The dance is over, the merrymakers stream down the steps of the big woolshed and mid laughter and merriment depart in little groups. Down the gully we wind, treading over dancing shadows cast by the great gum trees, then up the rough hilly track out on to the top of the tussocky ridge. A tired moon dips sleepily towards the hills and light fleecy clouds ride very high. The stars are pale, for the early dawn is near. Far, far away where the fairt gleam of the ocean shimmers, the horuon is already lightening. High and strong blows the west wind, the great silver tussocks dip and bend and rise again like a sea of gleaming silver. Behind us, the wind roars loudly through the Geddes gums like the roar of angry waves, and with close-clasped hands we race along the narrow track before it. At the stile we pause; only the rim of the moon is above the hills now, the valley is dark but the sky is clear. Faintly in a momentary lull of the wind comes the sound of music—one of the evening's musicians is cheering the homeward trail. The buffeting wind hurls lis from our resting place, we speed down the last slope, and laughing and panting come to rest on the sheltered veranda. Oh! it's a madcap wind and a merry, a wind that's full of youth and romance, the high, strong wind that blow s from the west!

It blows from the east. So hot the day, the sun a glowing fire, the earth throwing back the heat it cannot further absorb, and the air glittering and glimmering with heat waves. The trees stand straight and still, no faintest breath of wind stirs their leaves, and in their shade, close by the water, stand the cattle with lazily switching tails. Up the length of golden wheat comes the binder in a blur of heat and dust, the reel flashing in ai'J out of the standing corn. The dogs, busy with fleeing rabbits, splash into ihe creek; with heaving sides and lolling tongues they crouch a moment in the cool water, then with a few noisy laps they are out and off again. The creek murmurs drowsily, the intense heat has stilled the song of the birds and the sweating horses in the binder lean their heads together as if in silent sympathy. The sun is wearing westwards when suddenly one cow lifts her drooping head eagerly and faces towards the east. Instantly every bovine head is turned in the same direction. The weary harvesters straighten their backs and say gladly, " The east wind is coming." Softly, very softly it comes, but oh! the freshness and coolness of it. One can smell the tang of the sea and feel the coolness of bushclad hills. The birds, refreshed, begin their evening chorus, and tired men and women drink in deep draughts of that cool invigorating breeze. Slowly it sweeps up a damp garment of fog to cover and refresh the hot, parched earth. It is a welcome wind, a God-given wind that comes at close of day, this soft, cool wind that blows in from the east! It blows from the south. The very best wind of all, for does not this south wind blow from the direction of the home of Long Ago? A silvery-haired figure in a great chair turns her head wistfully to catch its caress, —and Oh! the secrets it whispers to her and the memories it brings. Again, as in former days, she sees a dearly loved form swinging across the paddocks towards her, and hears again his cheery whistle. With misty eyes and thrilling heart, as in a vision she sees the old familiar cattle, the horses, yes, and the dogs, a procession of loving, faithful friends. Faintly to her nostrils comes the delicate scent of the apple orchard in springtime, and the plaintive cry of newborn lambs. Stronger, then, comes the perfume of the sweet summer roses and the acrid tang of autumn fires. Aeain she hears the sound of eager young voices as the children of Long Ago hold high revel in the winter snows. Breathing deeply, she feels once more the bracing wind that blows from the snowy fields ot the frozen south.

But what wind is this? a strange, chill, compelling breath, that blows from —no man knows where. Softly it envelops the quiet form, and gently lifts the silver locks that once were golden curls. Softly it sighs, then drifts away, but with it, into the Unknown, something has gone, far beyond the ken of man. Gone for ever, now, is the cold north wind of Childhood, the high west wind of Youth, the refreshing east wind of Middle-age, even the dear south wind of Beautiful Memories,—gone no man knoweth whither, only God. Who holdeth the reins of the wind in His hands.