The woods were filled with many sounds that day: birds singing, leaves rustling, squirrels moving around.
I was painting a picture beside a stream in the late morning. The stream flowed around many large boulders. This view of rocks and water is what attracted me to this place.
Suddenly, everything was quiet. I mean absolutely quiet. Even the water became quiet.
Everything became unexpectedly still. A great hush came over this place. You could hear a pin drop. And so it continued for about 2 minutes. It reminded me of how it is right before a storm.
Then a single crow cawed 3 times. I heard a low, kind of roaring sound approaching. It arrived as a phenomenally powerful gust of wind, following the stream.
It knocked off my sunhat, almost into the stream, and toppled my easel. The canvas went flying. The wind kept blowing like one long gust.
It lasted only a minute before passing by, but was completely overwhelming.
That wind was alive and conscious. I know it was. And everyone else in the woods knew it too.
Then, just as suddenly as it began, everything went back to normal.
Thank you wind for visiting me, and allowing me to know you better.
I really feel I shared a great experience, a great mystery in the woods that day.