Wind whistles wildly through the nearby Doug firs

High on a hill east of our home – familiar evening updraft

I’m used to the subtle tension it brings

Which feels oddly like a comfortable ol’ friend

I sleep – content that all is back to its norm

I awake – surprised by the white of snow out the barely opened window

Look again and see the white flowers of an apple tree

With beautiful white and yellow daffodils below

Yes – these are the November winds

On a typical April day in Bellingham