The wind is very loud this time of year. It's all the dry leaves adding their voice to the mix. When you are surrounded by 100 year old oaks, you can't help but think that one may fall. You can only hope it misses your house.
When Steven was alive, I would comfort myself with the thought that, at least we would go together if it happened at night. I really never considered it would happen any other time, only at night as we lay spooned together.
Now I listen and still enjoy the sound. Then I visualize how deep and strong the roots must be on an oak that old.