How the North Wind Lost

The north wind came into town one day just before the autumnal equinox. A Shepard boy leading the flock out of the pens into the crisping pasture saw her come down the road in a small chariot pulled by two woolly goats; their hard and ridged horns were adorned with bells of silver.

The Sheppard boy heard the bells and the clip-chopping of hooves from some distance down the road. It was from there that he could see the shadowy figure traveling its way down the road. He thought it queer that someone would be coming down the path so early in the morning. The mountain passes would have been more than cold at night by this time in the year and the next place of refuge was at least a day’s walk from his stables and pens.

But there she came, all billowing and with snapping fabrics. She traveled at a brisk pace, the goats tromping gallantly on the gravel path. The sound of the silver bells rang clear above the gentle breeze which moved tall grasses and over the clapping of hooves which roughed the rocked ground. The boy stood there, transfixed. Even a few sheep with their black and white faces, lifted their heads to see what the strange sound was. Certainly travelers and tradesmen used the mountain passes but none were ever decked in bells like these goats were. They rang high and clear, like metal over a lake.

The boy looked up from his tending to see the goat duo striding down the trail and witnessed the women all wrapped in heavy, dull colored cloaks. A conical hat sat atop her head and was strapped securely beneath her chin. The wind she brought with her threatened to pull it from her head at any minute; its point stretched out behind her along with the ends of her shawls. The fabric whipped and sapped in the space behind her causing consternation in the young boy.

He had heard stories of her from all the grandmothers and grandfathers. These were children’s tales of course and were told every year as the sunlight waned and the best apples became ripe. Oh to hear to hear the tales of The North Wind in the air surly meant that autumn had arrived and the time of winter squashes, sweet apples, and the best preserving spices---cinnamon, cloves, allspice, and nutmeg--- would be added to every dish imaginable certainly was upon them. The shaggy goats were a commonality in all tales. Once he had been told it was a team of horses with long tusks whose whinnies and bays were said to sound like the winter winds crashing against panes of glass. But this was told by a passer-by who was given shelter for the night and was clearly from other parts of the world. His accent was thick and muddy and was hard to understand. But the man worked for his stay and in the orchard the boy was picking apples along side the him. He got most of the story right except for the sled was pulled by horses instead of the usual goats.