Who has seen the wind?

Who has seen the wind?

Neither you nor I

But when the trees bow down their heads

The wind is passing by

Whoever wrote this poem, with its reverent pastoral references, was likely thinking about a gentle breeze wafting over prairie grasses; or, a cool sea breeze on a hot summer's day. However, if they were here in NZ with us, I believe the poem would have gone more like this:

Who has seen the wind?

Nobody

If you're daft you may keep your eyes open 

While walking the beach

And have your eyes sandblasted outta your head

Or, if you dare look anywhere but at the branch you are clutching while the gale force winds blow

Whatever else you are seeing will likely be your last

Or, if you stand watching trees 'bow down their heads' then be prepared to take a trunk to your head

At 90 miles an hour

Perhaps this is why there are no famous poets who hail from the NZ south island. Oh, you don't believe me? OK...name a famous NZ south island poet...

I rest my case.

Thus has been our experience while visiting the magnificent NZ south island (or, as those who live here refer to it; The Mainland). As an example, last night we spent our first of three nights on the Otago Peninsula. At our campsite, the proprietress directed us to the 'prime' spot on the 'terrace' overlooking the sea in the village of Portobello which laid below us. Here is the view from our back window (Janet asks that you please ignore the unmade bed):

We were completely unaware of the evil that lurked to the west. A once-in-a-hundred year windstorm blew in and almost blew us into the lovely, quiet village of Portobello. The van rocked and bounced all night long...from the wind. The wind blew so hard that the road we drove in on was flooded by the seas lapping up and over the road; trees were downed all over the peninsula; and, power was out for almost a full day. The papers the next day reported winds at the end of the peninsula that were recorded at over 150 km/hr.

But to us it felt like just another south NZ 'breeze'

Winds so strong at Milford Sound that it blew me AND the sea akilter

Wind messing our hair at Te Anau Lake

Janet hangs on for dear life as a vertigo inducing blast nearly blows us off Key Summit in Fjordland National Park

The 'poet' trying to 'see' the wind while the not-so-daft one knows how to keep the blasting sand at Farewell Spit outta the eyes

So it has been here on the NZ South Island. Janet has seen some world class scenery. I, on the other hand, hope to regain my vision once I figure out how to get my contacts out of my eyes without grinding more sand into my cornea.