Country Life
THE weather forecast had mentioned a south- westerly gale and late in the afternoon, while I was on the hillside, the forecast proved correct. For more than an hour the wind had been gusting through the treetops and two or three pigeons had pitched down to rest, but the power of the wind increased steadily and the birds were forced to seek better shelter. With my back to one of the larger trees I stood watching them crossing the valley like ships in an angry sea. The wood, on the other side was obscured and the pigeons disappeared, lost in the background of driving rain and the blurred outlines of trees and fields and a hazel copse at the foot of the invisible wood. When I turned my attention to the trees near at hand, conscious of the vibration in the one against which my back was resting, I saw them swaying and switching, forced to lean and spring to the force of the wind. The same thing happens to tall weeds and hollyhocks when only a moderate wind blows, but the behaviour of pines in a gale is an awe-inspiring sight and a little frightening when the trees are tall and obviously heavy. Only the tough, flexible sinews of the roots keep them upright and a dead tree creaks and groans until its top breaks.
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