This is the sort of wind that is celebrated in the 14th Century poem supposed to have been written by a homesick English soldier in France:
" Western wind when wilt thou blow,
The small rain down can rain.
Christ that my love were in my arms
And I in my bed again!"
Checking the soil to see if the rain has gone deep enough to reach the roots of plants.
Talking to Andre at the video shop about the virtues of blogging.