A-ha, that oh so well know band from the 1980’s sang the song Crying in the Rain. It is a song about love-sickness. It is about finding a way to get over a breakup. I have been doing my fair share of crying in the rain this past week. No, I am not lovesick and no, I am not getting over a breakup. My crying in the rain happens every time I stick the tip of my nose out the door. Some of the tears are due to rain pouring down my face. Others again, because the wind is forcing the tears out from behind my eyes and tears involuntary simply stream down my cheeks.

I love winter. It is my favorite season. Or so I thought. No, I do. I do like winter, but on my terms. And what we are going through now, is not winter on my terms. What is happening around me now, is simply carnage. Natural carnage! We have had a week of wind from Hell that takes no prisoners and stops for no man. That is quoting William Blake, from “The marriage of Heaven and Hell,” and we all know that William Blake was a bit idiosyncratic, to say the least.

Way back when we were packing to move to the Cape, I ever so carefully wrapped up all my wind chimes. What are you planning to do with those, our son asked? Oh, I will hang them in our new garden, I said. In the CAPE, son exclaimed? – eyes just about popping from his head. It is a good thing my wind chimes are still packed away, because had they not been, the BBC would be doing a National Geographic special on a close to extinct Narwhal species somewhere on a floating ice shelve, with a wind chime hanging from a protruding tooth.

Our first Cape winter turned out to be so mild. I had a wardrobe full of winter coats and did not use one of them that first winter. The second winter was hard to tell. There were cold days and some wind and rain, but what got to me last winter was the damp and mold. Our little farmhouse, which was built when granny was but a glimmer in somebody’s eye, was very damp and moldy in winter. It was a small price to pay for the wonderful view we had. However, this winter is enough to make a strong man (or woman) weak.

What I am learning from this wind, is not to judge. A person desperately hanging onto a lamp pole, swaying from side to side is not the neighbourhood drunk. No, it is probably just someone trying to take a walk, you know – just to get out the house. And that thing that resembles a tea cozy? It is a beanie, over a beanie, pulled down firmly against the wind. Guys, I had no idea. You have no idea. The Cape has wind that takes no prisoners.

On Sunday, after a day of staring out the window at the wind, I suggested to Colin we take a drive down to the beach. It is just a short hop, and we usually walk. Since we would only be sitting in a car, we both wrapped up in a blanket, thermal cup of coffee in the hand, we fought our way into the car. With one hand clutching the blanket under my chin, and the other trying not to spill coffee, it took the rest of my body to keep the car door open long enough to get into it. No need to close the car door. The wind took care of that. My beanie did not quite make the trip and ascended into heaven like a Chinese New Year lantern high on Speed or Crack, or whatever is being sold in small Zip Lockies in back alleys nowadays, from the pockets of torn coats.

Once we got to the parking area down by the beach, we discovered that it is not such an unusual thing to do. The parking lot resembled an old style drive in with windswept tea cozies wrapped in layers of what came to hand, clutching various versions of drinking vessels, all staring out of their steamed-up windscreens. We stayed about an hour, marveling at the force of nature. Driving home today, we drove along the coastal road. I was glad to see that I am not alone. The waves share my misery. The wind was so strong that from our viewpoint, it looked like the wind was blowing the waves right back into the sea. Oh, look, Colin. We need a photo of that for my Cape Crawl. And that explains why there was a single solitary, swaying man with a camera, hanging onto a lamp pole. These photos are deceptive, I said. Look how blue the sky is on them. No one will believe me when I tell them about the wind. I was on my own. No way was Colin going to get out the car and take me a windier wind photo. If you want a better photo, go take it yourself. He did not say it, he did not have to. I got the message.

Last year this time, we had an opportunity to escape to Knysna for a weekend, and as luck would have it, the same opportunity presented again. My son drove down from Knysna yesterday, a neighbour said. The trip was windy and wet, and as he passed through Swellendam, it was snowing. She had me at snowing. Oh, I love winter!

One thing is for sure, if we do come across any snow, we all know who will be the one in the snow taking a photo for his wife in the car!