SITTING AT BREAKFAST, before a table set with blueberry pancakes, cinnamon cookies, and two (two!) different kinds of locally-tapped maple syrup, Mint and I were unable to eat. Something was amiss. All around us, rushing through the house from screen doors thrown wide open was a persistent draining, rustling sensation. We could hear it; we could almost feel it. And it was getting louder.
"What's wrong?" my aunt Kathy asked. Mint looked at me. We questioned each other with our eyes--and it struck me! The noise was coming from outside. It was... the wind. Blowing through the trees. Dammit.
What was it, Memorial Day, when I last stood and looked out over Lake Erie? Apparently two months in this city is all it takes to make one forget some of the simpler things in life. You know, like wind and trees.
So, from that moment on, the plan for the weekend was simple: spend as much time outside as possible. This included paddling a canoe around the small lake out back, trekking through the Connecticut woods, and enjoying the fruits of a fired-up grill (driving into town to find a copy of Harry Potter was also included but didn't seem to fit in with the "outdoors" plan).
I'm pleased to report everything went smoothly. Fresh air isn't so scary once you get used to it.