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Alberta is dry.

A heat dome has settled over our province. 

The prairie has been an arid desert.

Dust hangs in the air and silt blows through any cracks and crevices of the house to rest indoors on my furniture.

Our northern forests are ablaze.

In the news, no one reports on the arson which caused this fiery tragedy up north, on any charges laid or on the perpetrator(s) set free until their court date arrives. In the midst political campaigns, they’d rather call it global warming than tell the truth.  It’s just more of the same political rhetoric.

Meanwhile, fire fighters are busy trying to fight fires and farmers are busy trying to seed their crops.  Cattlemen and women are busy tending to their cow/calf operations. People are busy living their lives both in rural and urban areas.  At this point, most Albertans have probably already decided on which candidate they will vote for and don’t care about two women fighting over who will reign as Premier in our province. But, the political force with their mudslinging and bluster has left a foul odor in the air.

Today, a barbarous cold wind blew in from the north.  They call the wind, Tramontane.

With flying hooves, Tramontane carried smoke from the north, across central Alberta and delivered it south.

The smell of smoke and fire troll mingles with dust to smudge our province of negativity. Once the foul political odor is removed from the air, I’m sure it will rain.

Tramontane, the north wind, promises a change in weather. 

Around here, all of the crops are in the ground.  They would definitely benefit from some moisture as would the rest of our province.

Alberta needs rain.

And, when it does, I’m going to dance like nobody’s watching!

Hang on a second, let me correct that, why wait?

I’m going to go out in that smudgy, windy air and do a rain dance with Tramontane like no one is watching right now!

I hope you’ll join with me in the dance where ever you reside.  The more the merrier! Let’s make it rain, just dance!

The North winds moral lesson is that kind and gentle persuasion always wins over force and bluster.

(May whomever aspires to reign over our province in the future consider the above lesson.)

 

Thank-you for following, reading, sharing and commenting – The Trefoil Muse

 

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Tramontane (/trəˈmɒnteɪn/ trə-MON-tayn)[a] is a classical name for a northern wind. The exact form of the name and precise direction varies from country to country. The word came to English from Italian tramontana, which developed from Latin trānsmontānus (trāns- + montānus), “beyond/across the mountains”,[1][2][3] referring to the Alps in the North of Italy. The word has other non-wind-related senses: it can refer to anything that comes from, or anyone who lives on, the other side of mountains, or even more generally, anything seen as foreign, strange, or even barbarous.
The journey of “tramontane” into English starts in Latin and begins with the coming together of the prefix trans-, meaning “across” or “beyond,” and montanus, meaning “of a mountain.”

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Blue

She was giving and kind. They worshipped her like a Saint.  She was of the earth and moved about the land like a breath of fresh air.

They said he was the Devil.  His was a craggy, worn exterior.  People avoided him.  He was hard they observed – probably cruel.  He was fire and ice.  He’d burn you if he could.

No one knew for certain how they’d come upon one another but they were concerned for she epitomized all that was good – but he was evil.

It was pure magnetism that pulled them together.  Opposites attract or so it is said.

It so happened that she’d heard a sorrowful sound and followed it until she happened upon him.  When she’d found him, he was like a pool of iced over water cracking, groaning and crying for help.  He craved warmth, she could see it.  The magic happened when she looked beyond his icy blue depths and into his soul.

To him, she was like a downy white quilt that wrapped his hardened exterior in warmth.  When he looked into the darkness beyond her eyes – that is when he melted.

She held out her hand and he readily took it.  Holding her tightly in his arms, he waltzed with her over the tapestry of the earth to music of the Universe.

With their spirits entwined, they balanced and danced, bringing the world alive with beauty.

And, the people worried over the change in him.  It seemed unnatural.

Now, consensus is that she’s a Sorceress – wicked.

While he…, he is merely a man who has fallen under her spell.

‘But not all opinions are equal,’ she reasoned. And, she did not hold the opinions of others.

She had awareness; an awareness that the others did not; for she knew what had happened when the eyes of fire and ice met the eyes of earth and air – two souls collided and became one.

‘Eyes are the windows to the soul,’ she knew and she knew the power of ‘love.’

She held the opinion, ‘When souls unite in balance and beauty, love is neither wicked nor evil.  Love is a gift found within the eyes for any who dare look into their depths.’

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