learning to see the wind

The wind blows a lot here on Hatteras Island. And it’s heavy. Different. Filled with salty particles and smells of the sea. 

You don’t notice as much when it’s warm. The welcome cooling to the sandy sweat. But when it’s cold… it moves through you, not around.

Invisible (but not really). Contrasting. Infinite. Defining. 

It cycles from nothingness to a roar. Sitting silent in the fog and swirling high in the clouds. It whispers through the pines and click-clacks on the palms.

It’s a part of the beauty in everything you do here. I’m learning to see it.