“The wind is my friend.” “The wind is my friend,” the man next to me was chanting. We were squished together like sardines, along with many other vendors, inside a big permanent tent set up at an outdoor art show. His whole display had just crashed to the ground.
The day had not started well. Everyone had set up their displays early that morning amid cloudy skies and howling wind. But then miraculously, the wind died down and the sun came out. It was beautiful. So we all sat back and waited for the show to open, the customers to come and business to be good.
And then I noticed something. My handmade bags began to twist ever so slightly on their hangers. My canopy gave a slight shiver. And I thought to myself, in despair, “It’s coming back…” In the blink of an eye, it was back, growing in force like a runaway train. And before I had time to go to plan B or even come up with plan A…BAM! Over went my display rack and off like kites flew my bags. It was a horrible moment! Some kindly people-I don’t know who they were-the moment is a blur, helped me set back up. For a little while I was good, and then BAM! This time I think something rather unladylike slipped out as I expressed my frustration. When the rack fell over, my daughter Amy caught it with her sweet little head! I was in a state of panic. What was I going to do? The show still had a good 4 hours to go.
After that, everyone was in distress. Paintings, jewelry and everything in between were set aloft. This is when many of us were ushered into the big tent, normally reserved just for a few artists. It really didn’t matter. The wind kept finding its mark. I heard vendors say over and over to potential customers “Well, I had a nice display set up, but you see, the wind came up…” As for me, I sat quietly in a daze, the wind having deafened me and left me speechless hours earlier. My once neatly hung bags, arranged carefully by style and color, were in a shambles, and my racks were anchored to my table with a tangled maze of ropes. All that I really cared about at that point was that my bags were all still there. (I didn’t count them-I probably should have.)
The day rapidly deteriorated -the wind blew harder and harder and it got cold. Soon people even stopped looking around to see whose stuff had taken the latest hit. The only thing that mattered was how fast we could all pack up and go home.
So what can I say about the wind yesterday, now that the show is over? That after being battered by it for hours I finally know what it’s like to have straight hair. And that I need to learn some new vocabulary words to express myself in times of crisis. And that when it’s all said and done, Mother Nature is still in control, and that oddly enough, I find comforting.
The day had not started well. Everyone had set up their displays early that morning amid cloudy skies and howling wind. But then miraculously, the wind died down and the sun came out. It was beautiful. So we all sat back and waited for the show to open, the customers to come and business to be good.
And then I noticed something. My handmade bags began to twist ever so slightly on their hangers. My canopy gave a slight shiver. And I thought to myself, in despair, “It’s coming back…” In the blink of an eye, it was back, growing in force like a runaway train. And before I had time to go to plan B or even come up with plan A…BAM! Over went my display rack and off like kites flew my bags. It was a horrible moment! Some kindly people-I don’t know who they were-the moment is a blur, helped me set back up. For a little while I was good, and then BAM! This time I think something rather unladylike slipped out as I expressed my frustration. When the rack fell over, my daughter Amy caught it with her sweet little head! I was in a state of panic. What was I going to do? The show still had a good 4 hours to go.
After that, everyone was in distress. Paintings, jewelry and everything in between were set aloft. This is when many of us were ushered into the big tent, normally reserved just for a few artists. It really didn’t matter. The wind kept finding its mark. I heard vendors say over and over to potential customers “Well, I had a nice display set up, but you see, the wind came up…” As for me, I sat quietly in a daze, the wind having deafened me and left me speechless hours earlier. My once neatly hung bags, arranged carefully by style and color, were in a shambles, and my racks were anchored to my table with a tangled maze of ropes. All that I really cared about at that point was that my bags were all still there. (I didn’t count them-I probably should have.)
The day rapidly deteriorated -the wind blew harder and harder and it got cold. Soon people even stopped looking around to see whose stuff had taken the latest hit. The only thing that mattered was how fast we could all pack up and go home.
So what can I say about the wind yesterday, now that the show is over? That after being battered by it for hours I finally know what it’s like to have straight hair. And that I need to learn some new vocabulary words to express myself in times of crisis. And that when it’s all said and done, Mother Nature is still in control, and that oddly enough, I find comforting.
(Thanks to my daughter Amy for the "before" picture.)
