Brrr! When I opened the door early yesterday morning, I was nearly blown off my feet. Bang went my plans for drinking my breakfast cuppa in the garden. The dogs weren’t too amused, either. What a contrast to the glorious Spring sunshine we’ve enjoyed over the Easter weekend.
It put me in mind of the old chanson quoted in Joanne Harris’s novel Chocolat, where Vianne Rocher and daughter Anouk arrive in the little village of Lasquenet-sous-Tannes, swept in on the winds of the carnival.
V’la l’bon vent, V’la l’ joli vent, V’la l’ bon vent, ma mie m’appelle
This holiday I’ve been re reading a childhood favourite: Mary Poppins. Do you remember her arrival at Number 17 Cherry Tree Lane, blown in by a fierce East wind, armed with her tardis-like carpet bag and her pride and joy: an umbrella with a parrot’s head handle? She agrees to stay “till the wind changes.”
Like Vianne and Anouk, Mary marches to the beat of a different drum. Each are travellers at heart; able to travel light, put down roots easily , make any place a home. Yet the call of the wind is forever near and we readers know at heart that their time with us is only temporary.
Winds of change? It’s making me wonder what changes we might see “once this is over,” as we keep saying in this strange, pandemic -ridden world. Are we, too, being asked to listen to a different drummer, to be open to the whisper of the wind inviting us to rethink our whole way of being, working and relating to each other?
What do you think?