Been feeling rather wind whipped lately? I found this fantastic video by David Frampton on The Wellingtonista blog which shows what we've been treated to here in Wellington.
Lear: Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow!
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drench’d our steeples, drown’d the cocks!
You sulphurous and thought-executing fires,
Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts,
Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder,
Strike flat the thick rotundity o’ the world!
Crack nature’s moulds, all germens spill at once
That make ingrateful man!
P.S. Funny I should write about storms on the day my most stormy child turns 18. You always know when he's in the house, this boy of mine, it shakes on its piles and creaks at the seams. Most buildings are too small to hold him, really. He drove teachers mad, and us....well, we're managing on the medication. He always got top marks for 'leadership' at school, and 'You're not the boss of my shoes' was a fave phrase which premiered when he was five years old. He was always looking at the moon, even in the daytime. He's social to a fault. He's as strong as Atlas, and so gentle when he sees someone or something that's hurt. And oh, he's fun - he makes us laugh a lot. And scream. Yes I screamed when he drove blithely through a red light in town today [he swore it was amber]. He still gives me the biggest cuddles and lifts me up in the air. Happy Birthday, Adam.