Why the Winter Wind Howls

Young Stella huddled as close to the recliner and nearby fire as she dared, trembling beneath a thick quilt. The blustering winter wind worked its way through gaps in the old cabin, threatening to extinguish the few small candles lighting the rooms.

All the while, it howled.

It howled like no living beast could; it wailed endlessly with all the strength of the very world's nigh-limitless lungs. It screamed, and raged, and shook the very walls around her with all its force, ushering in the frigid air of the deep drifts of snow accumulating outside.

Eventually, Stella could handle her terror no more. Hot tears began carving their way down her winter-cold cheeks and choked sobs caught in her throat. Within a few minutes, she was sniffling as well. It was these sounds that caught her grandfather's attention as he slept in his recliner. How he managed to hear her between the sounds of the crackling fire and the tremendous gusts buffeting the house, he couldn't fathom, but once he did, he searched the dark living room quickly.

"Stella?" he asked sleepily, but with concern.

"Grandpa!" cried Stella, and she rushed forth to throw herself into his embrace now that he was awake. Her grandfather was unable to get anything intelligible from her due to her crying, so all he could do was hold her. As he comforted her, he could feel how terribly she trembled as the howling of the wind grew into a deafening roar. Quickly putting things together, he winced; the annual winter wind was unlikely to calm or quiet anytime soon.

A glance at his clock, illuminated by the glow of the fire, and he sighed; it was only just after midnight.

It appeared it would be a restless night for them both.

Her grandfather sighed again as he slowly stood up. Then, he carried Stella into the kitchen with an unsteady, pained hobble. He set her down at the table, then worked to get lights on in the old cabin, extinguishing most of the candles as he did so. The old wiring and bulbs took their sweet time warming up and illuminating the kitchen, and by the time they had, he had ambled over to the fridge and begun rummaging through it.

"Grandpa?" Stella asked softly. She didn't ask anything further, and her grandfather looked over his shoulder as he pulled away from the fridge; milk, eggs, and butter in hand.

"Well, if we can't sleep," he began, laying the cold ingredients on the counter, "might as well bake us some cookies, hm? Warm cookies and milk sound good?"

At the mention of cookies, Stella perked up.

"What kinda cookies?!" she asked excitedly.

"Hm. Well, let's see if we've got any chocolate chips... If we do, we'll make chocolate chip cookies."

"Grandma's recipe?" Stella asked quietly. The words stopped her grandfather cold.

For a moment, he became caught up in his grief. His lovely wife, Janet, had passed just a few short winters ago. They'd spent fifty-plus years married; he was still adjusting to certain parts of his life without her.

This was largely why Stella was staying at the cabin with him over winter break - she was his daughter Beth's only child from her first marriage. Her new husband had several children of his own from his previous marriage, and the rest of the family had gone out of state to visit his family. Given the option, Stella had decided to keep her grandfather company - something he appreciated dearly.

"Grandpa?" Stella asked, carefully.

He realized he'd gotten swept up in a moment of grief, and cleared his throat before replying, "Yes, grandma's recipe. She always made the best cookies, huh?"

"Yeah! They're always so soft! An-and chewy! And chocolate chips is my favorite!"

The rest of the ingredients were found - including chocolate chips, much to Stella's delight. As they waited for the butter to soften a bit more, her grandpa set about making them each a cup of cocoa. When he settled in at the table with their drinks, he watched as Stella continued nervously glancing out the windows when the wind grew loud. He - and she - needed a distraction.

"Do you remember any of the stories your grandma used to tell ya? About how things got their origins?"

Stella shook her head, "Not very good..."

"You were very young. I'm not surprised."

"I remember the one about- about how starfish got their shape! They're some of my favorites!" the girl rambled excitedly.

"They're one of your favorites?! You've got so many! How many favorites do you have?!"

"Um... I guess- I guess all of them, grandpa!"

"All of them! Just can't choose, hm?" he chuckled.

"Nah!" Stella replied, twisting her body as she shook her head. A bright, gap-toothed smile greeted her grandfather.

"Well, it's been a long time since I've heard the stories... But I think I can remember one or two enough to tell to ya."

"What story, grandpa?!"

Her excited inquiry was interrupted by another mighty, deafening gust. This time, Stella took refuge by hiding under the table, refusing to come out for several minutes until the worst of the howling subsided - and even then only after being bribed with the promise of extra whipped cream and marshmallows in her cocoa.

"You know, this reminds me of a story your grandma loved to tell your mamma, actually..." Stella's grandpa said as the girl settled back into the chair at the table.

"Really? What's it about, grandpa?"

"It's about why the wind howls - especially in the winter months. You wanna hear it?"

For a moment, Stella considered. Then, slowly, she nodded.

"All right then..." her grandfather said before he took a drink of his own cocoa. Stella giggled when a few drips dribbled into his bushy beard.

"Well, the short of it is that the winter wind is afraid of the cold..."

"The wind is afraid of the cold?" Stella's face crinkled in confusion.

"Yep. The story goes that every spring, a new wind is born for the year..."

"Like the elk and deer?"

"Like the elk and deer," her grandfather confirmed patiently, continuing, "... and so, every year, there's a new wind created - born. It spends the spring learning to move and grow - to dance, and rustle the grass, and to whistle and whisper to the creatures of the Earth."

Stella giggled gleefully. "Oh, grandpa?! When are we making the cookies?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah... All right, let's mix up the dough and I'll keep telling you the story...

So as I was saying... As summer comes in, the wind learns some new things. It plays in the sunshine, the young, summer wind, and in the meadows, and in the endless fields of flowers. Just like you, hm? And then it learns to sing, and carry dandelion fluff..."

"Yeah! I love dandelion fluff!" Stella smiled, cupping her hands around the remnants of her cocoa mug to drink the last dregs of chocolate powder as she watched her grandfather spoon the cookie dough onto the baking sheet before placing it in the preheated oven.

"Oh, I bet those are gonna be lovely in about 12 minutes... All nice and gooey and warm. Dunk 'em in a nice cold glass of milk... Mmmm."

"I'm so excited! They smell tasty already! But what about the story?"

"Right! So uh, where was I... The summer wind... Right! And when autumn comes, oh, the wind really loves that. It loves how the fallen leaves are all different colors, and the sounds they make as it pushes them along the ground - it absolutely loves chasing the leaves. It also likes to play with the flames of candles, like the ones that flicker in our Jack-o-lanterns every Halloween."

"And then, every year when winter comes... Well, at first the wind loves winter too; it likes the fresh, powdery snow and the crispness of the air..."

Beep! Beep! Beep! Began the timer.

"Cookies!!" Stella exclaimed, wiggling and dancing in excitement.

"Indeed! Now mind yourself and scooch on back - I gotta pull these out so they can cool. Don't wanna burn 'em. Or you."

The rest of the story went forgotten for a few minutes as Stella seated herself at the table and her grandfather gathered glasses and the milk he'd placed back in the fridge to pour them each a cold glass of milk for their cookies.

"They smell so good..." Stella stated, hands gripping her abdomen, "I'm so hungry!"

At this, her grandfather chuckled. "Soon, kiddo. Soon. But back to our story, hm?"

"Yes, please!"

"All right. So as I was saying, the wind loves winter too - at first. But before long, it finds it just isn't as fun: the days are cold, and gloomy, and all the leaves are gone. It doesn't feel like singing, or playing..."

Grandpa returned to the table a few minutes later, a plate of fresh, warm, gooey-chewy chocolate chip cookies in hand. He slid a few over to an eager Stella and sat. Then, he finally got his first taste of the cookies.

"I forgot how good these were... I haven't had grandma's cookies since..." he took a moment to recall, "Well, guess it must've been just before she passed..."

"Grandma'd say you did a good job!" Stella remarked happily. Despite them being her favorite cookie, she seemed to be wearing more of the chocolate chips than eating them...

"Oh, the story... We're nearly finished. So as winter drags on, the wind grows upset; bored and cold. It begins to scream, and cry, and howl in its frustration. It doesn't know any better."

"What happens to the wind after winter?"

"...Well, the yearling wind rejoices - it starts the next year happy to play. A new wind is born, and the older one shows it the ropes. It's all fun and games again - until winter comes back around. And then, they both howl. The next year, there's three winds, and they all howl... On and on. That's why they get so loud - there's so many, all tired of the bleak and the cold."

"I wish they'd stop howling..."

"I know. They're just upset, though. It's their way of telling spring to hurry and come back."

For a few minutes following the conclusion of the story, both sit quietly, chewing on their warm cookies.

"Grandma really liked baking these cookies in the winter, huh grandpa?"

"Yeah, she sure did. She'd sing to the animals we had while she baked - the cats and the dogs. Your mamma'd get scared of the wind too growing up, and your grandma would sing to her too."

Eventually, the two ate their fill of cookies, and Stella was instructed to brush her teeth again before going back to bed as her grandpa set about putting items away and washing a few dishes. By the time Stella returned, the wind had calmed, and she let out a long yawn as she gave a tired stretch.

"Sounds like it's bedtime for you, little one."

"And the wind!" Stella added sleepily as she curled up on the couch under the thick quilt.

"And the wind," her grandfather agreed with a chuckle, hobbling back to his recliner. He took a moment to stare at Janet's picture on the mantle as he too slowly succumbed to sleep, her warm smile as warm and sweet as her chocolate chip cookie recipe.

"Night, grandpa," Stella yawned.

"Good night, kiddo."