The wind in the trees

When I was in Boy Scouts, we used to go to this campsite on a old man's farm. I loved going there, with its creek, trails and hills. At night, I loved lying in my tent, bundled up in my sleeping bag, listening to the wind cut through the trees. The whooshing sound was soothing.

This weekend, there was a lot of wind blowing through. At night, I was back in that tent, in that sleeping bag, listening to the currents of air rushing among the branches. I saw myself standing in that forest, watching the trees sway back and worth, listening to that sweet rush blow overhead.

Spiritually, this has been a good weekend.