It is just two days until Christmas, and as I write this, it is pitch black outside my window. A window that is open enough to let something of the swirling, roaring wind making merry with itself, come inside. It makes me think of Aesop and his sun versus wind fable. There was a time when I willingly bought the idea that the latter, cheeks full of puff, lips pursed malevolently, was the villain of the piece, while the sun was like a gentle old lady caressing the traveller out of his cloak. In this age of climate change, Aesop might have written a different tale. A tale in which the sun, the wind, the rain have all become very accomplished demons, willing at the drop of a hat, to unleash havoc the world over. He might have written about moderation, and how when it comes to the weather, excess is not the best policy. The same, he might also say, is true of Christmas.
The wind between the trees as the darkness began to turn to light