“Way out west they have a name for rain, and wind, and fire.
The rain is Tess, the fire’s Joe
And they call the wind Mariah.”

Sweet. Personal.

When these winds kick up, there are some predictable characteristics. The winds are very cold, strong, and biting—they have such force that smaller trees can become more horizontal than vertical, and the limbs on the old stalwarts wave continuously to create a constant rustling/whistling sound. And to top it off, we can count on the winds to be relentless for three to four days!

The Tramonti , as they are called, are so strong and cold that they can blow clothes right off the rack without drying them. I put a couple of pillow cases on the standino, drying rack this morning, of course using clothes pins. One hour later, I found them in the rose bush—pins still attached. They were still wet and very cold indeed. It’s the kind of cold that hurts your fingertips. Brrr! So I bought a pair of those gloves with open fingers.  Even though my fingers are exposed for working on the computer and stuff like that, the gloves at least give me the illusion that my hands are warm and that my fingertips are NOT going to fall off. Eventually, I had to bring the pillowcases in and put them in the dryer. But the dryer has a mind of its own and perceived them to be dry. It apparently CAN’T tell the difference between very cold and almost dry. But I can!

Since we live very near a ridge line, the wind whistles through the trees non-stop during its days of visitation. It sounds like the ocean is just outside, churning and crashing away, even though it’s only the limbs waving and the leaves dashing about. The Tramonti frequently rips the leaves from their branches, but only after they’re twisted and tortured into submission. Yesterday I picked up some late fruit from under the tree out front. Today, the yard is full again. You know how it is here—we can’t leave any fruit on the ground, even if it’s not quite ripe. That would only bait the wild boar, and that’s far worse than the cold winds. (You might want to check out the previous story called “I Don’t Want to Boar You“.)

We just finished day 2, so we wonder which it will be—one more day, or two more? Several days ago, we went for a walk and I was wearing a light sweatshirt which was plenty warm. Today, I’m wearing that same sweatshirt inside the house, and our walk required a heavy jacket and a hat for starters. And definitely not a hat with a brim. Oh, no! That’s just tempting the Fates. That would be the equivalent of wearing a Frisbee on my head, perched for take-off. No, it will either have to fit snugly on my head, or maybe even be one that securely fastens into place with a chin strap. And it absolutely must have ear coverage. The winds cut through my ears like a dog whistle. The wind chill at times surely approaches freezing. You’d imagine everything to be nearly frozen. But no! Swirling in the Tramonti are whatever living spores, seeds or airborne germinating fluff  that happens to be within 100 kilometers, seeking my inner ear in which to set up residence.

So as you can tell, the winds can be something of a menace or at least a significant nuisance. Other than their Italian name Tramonti, the winds don’t have a cute little human name like Tess or Mariah. But we could give them one. How about Henry or Frank? How about Janet or Linda? Brrr. How about handing me another blanket?

Posted on October 16, 2011

Related Story

What a Grande Idea: On a beautiful morning, July 1st, 1849 Dr. John Edward Summers, an Army physician was on duty at the Mission of San Diego de Alcalá. His task was to record the weather conditions at the post. So he followed orders, even though they were out of the ordinary, and submitted his findings to Washington.