Something windy this way come

Living on an island makes one very vulnerable. Having grown up in the US and always landlocked on at least three sides, I never fully understood what it meant to be at the mercy of Mother Nature's whims. Sure, there were some blizzards and thunderstorms when I was a child that made life inconvenient for a few days at a time. I even lived through a fluke ice storm when I was in graduate school that had power lines down for nine days. Despite it all, there was always mobility of some sort. There was always a way to get from Point A to Point B.

Even after four years here in the Dodecanese, it never ceases to amaze me how omnipotent the wind is. It can literally seize control of everything. When these violent gusts decide to kick up, there is no way to resist. There is no fighting Mother Nature, particularly now that we have pissed her off after so many years of pollution, carelessness and overdevelopment. Poseidon joins in her rage and the sea seems to swell with anger. Waves and whitecaps take the place of the once calm blueness. The cerulean sky morphs into a solid roaring white blanket, making it impossible to even hear oneself think over the distracting sound. Storm shutters bang, foreign objects go flying, and television antennae almost snap in half. All one can do is duck and cover. Airplanes do not come or go from the island. Ships are grounded at the harbor. Parcels are neither sent nor received. Grocery stores fail to be restocked. Gasoline tanks cannot be refilled. There is no way in and no way out. No mobility. Life comes to an obligatory standstill.