Ah, the gentle wind! Cooling, stirring up a little, making the occasional leaf to drift around the place. The gentle zephyrs are a reminder of the work of the Spirit in comforting us, breathing gently through the heats of our desires. As the old song has it,
"Spirit of God, unseen as the wind, gentle as is the dove."
And so this morning I've risen to discover that a healing zephyr has dumped the potting shed in the middle of the greenhouse, and the old diseased horse-chestnut, which we kept because a dying tree is such a poignant thing, is laying across the croquet lawn.
Still, when the sun has risen we should have quite a nice view across the valley now. And the firewood will be quite handy. But the Christmas bling is all over the floor and there are doilies floating around the grounds. I could do with some gentler healing zephyrs in future.
