She was here yesterday, and the day before, hurling branches on to the roadways.
The eastern suburbs of the city have been without power because the substation caught fire. Maybe this wasn't the work of the wind woman, but sometimes other mischief gets done when the wind woman is distracting everyone's attention.
I first met her when I was a child, back in the days of reading Anne of Green Gables.
That's when I learned that she could be a friend also, a reminder of the power in the elements and the power in me, to scour out, clear away, tear up what is old, unwanted and finished with. At the end of winter a lot of mustiness and debris has gathered and needs to be torn away.
The wind woman stole my pale blue bucket lid, and search as I might, I cannot find it. But she also sweeps up rubbish with her big wide broom, and carries it away, never to be seen again.
When the wind woman finally is ready to sleep, and the mess has been cleaned up, a fresh start will be possible. Then, maybe, sweet spring will show her maiden face and the earth will sigh with relief and happiness.