September is usually a very windy month in Greece. This year, a good, cracking thunderstorm ushered in the wind, a storm even someone from Kansas would have admired. The storm passed, but the wind is still thrashing the tops of the platonos trees in an arc I estimate to be at least 24 feet wide, giving the birds quite a ride. They prefer to perch near the trunk and further down, in this wind. It makes everyone’s awnings roar and renders it impossible for anyone to hang out her laundry. It blows away the wet sops of granary bread I set out on the balcony for the birds and even blows away the sparrows, too, if they are standing flat-footed on the balcony rail. I’m sure the gusts are occasionally near hurricane strength.
Our windows are not screened, nor need to be normally, so even if we only leave them open a few inches, the 10-foot-long curtains blow out of the windows and you have to haul them back in and secure them; or, in the other direction, the curtains blow all over the room, knocking over things. (We really do love to keep our windows open, but they’re only partly open right now.) The inside doors slam; we keep ours in place with several large, pretty paper weights I once bought to use as doorstops.
When you go outside, the wind whips through your hair, moans past your ears so it’s sometimes hard to hear anything else, and blasts right through a cardigan or pullover.
They say the mistral in France affects people’s disposition, making them short-tempered and feeling out of sorts. Our wind isn’t as relentless as that; I find it all quite exhilarating and a lot of fun.