GRANDFATHER WIND

Sun (Auckland), Volume IV, Issue 1049, 13 August 1930, Page 16

GRANDFATHER WIND

GRANDFATHER WIND had been reading Shakespeare: “Blow, blow thou winter wind; thou art not so unkind as man’s ingratitude. . . He knew nothing whatever of man’s ingratitude, but he did know that his business in life was to blow and, as he was the King of Winds, he had no difficulty whatever in making himself heard and felt. He lived in a cavern, the entrance of which was fringed with icicles, and during the winter months he would fare forth into the world pf men, whisking hats off, shouting down chimney-pots, uprooting trees and leaving a trail of desolation in his wake. “What month is it, my dear?” he asked Grandmother Wind, early one morning. “It is August,” she answered in a grandmotherly voice, for she had a much milder nature than her husband. She liked ruffling the feathers of nesting birds and toying with the ribbons on babies’ bonnets. Everything gentle appealed to Grandmother Wind. “Then I must be off,” said Grandfather Wind, and away he went. Grandmother Wind spent the morning tidying the cavern and blowing stray flecks of rime off the mantelpiece. At noon her husband returned, quite out of breath and looking very sheepish. A yellow daffodil gleamed in his buttonhole. “My dear,” be said. “The Spring Zephyrs have forced me to take cover. They pulled my hair and plaited my beard, and made me feel quite out of season. Aha! A long, long, holiday for me. .. 1 hope there is something good for lunch in the ice-chest.” REDFEATHER.