A Windy Day

By Marilyn Cram Donahue

Mandy opened her eyes. It was morning, and there was something outside, scratching at her window. “Whoooo,” it called. She quickly got out of bed and put on her clothes. It sounded to Mandy like a very large owl. “Whoooo,” it said again.

She tiptoed from her room and then ran to the kitchen. “Did you hear that?” she asked her mother. “I think there’s a large owl outside scratching and blowing at my bedroom window.”

Mandy’s mother laughed. “That’s the wind,” she said, “and not an owl at all. It’s just air that moves very fast and makes the bushes rustle and scratch at your window.”

“Can I go out and see it?” Mandy asked.

“You can look for it, but I don’t think you’ll find it,” Mother said with a smile. Then she gave Mandy her sweater and a piece of hot buttered toast. “Now you won’t be cold or hungry while you hunt for the wind,” she told her.

Opening the door, Mandy stepped out into the backyard. There was a dry, sweet smell in the air. She licked her lips. They felt dry too. A gust of wind brushed across her cheek and was gone. Then another, much harder than the first. “Whoooo!” it said.

Mandy blinked her eyes and looked around. Large golden and orange leaves were falling from the maple tree. They touched the ground and danced together, round and round, like whirlpools of colored paper. The wind is finger painting, Mandy thought. It’s drawing leaf pictures with little fingers of air.

Cleeter, Mandy’s dog, barked loudly and pounced onto a pile of crisp brown leaves, crushing them into thousands of coppery pieces. But Tom, the cat, just put his nose in the air and sniffed. Then he curled his tail around himself and sat very still. Mandy reached down and put her hand on Tom’s soft fur.

POP! The fur crackled under Mandy’s fingers. Tom’s back curved up into a fluffy arch, and the fur crackled again.

Mandy heard something rustle. It was a piece of newspaper standing on edge. It balanced a second, then danced across the lawn like a kite trying to fly.

Suddenly a great gust of wind rushed around the house. This time it said, “Wheeee!” Mandy’s hair blew into her eyes so she couldn’t see. She put her hands out to push the wind away, but it kept right on coming. The leaves fell faster all around her. Yellow and gold and scarlet and orange leaves whirled and whirled.

“I’m in a leaf storm,” Mandy said. “If I don’t do something quick, this wind might blow me away.” She reached out and grabbed the rough, dusty trunk of the maple tree. Then she put both arms around the tree as far as they would reach. The wind blew and blew.

“Wheeee!” it sang, pulling at Mandy’s sweater until it puffed out and made her feel like a balloon.

“Help!” called Mandy, but no one heard her except Cleeter, who was playing in the leaves, and Tom, who stretched and yawned. Then he walked slowly toward the house.

If Tom can do that, thought Mandy, so can I. So she released her hands from the tree, pulled her sweater tightly around her, and walked right into the face of the wind to the back door. It pushed her hair straight back and almost took her breath away. But it made her feel clean and fresh all over.

“Well,” said Mother, when she and Tom were sitting at the kitchen table, “did you find the wind?”

Mandy nodded her head. “You can’t see it,” she explained, “but you can feel it and you can hear it and you can smell the things that fly with it. You can’t reach out and touch it, but it can touch you. It touched me so hard, I thought I’d be blown away. But I like windy days!”

Illustrated by Julie F. Young