We live in a very windy spot. This morning we woke to blasts of winter air rocking the house, and crusted snow on the roof and lawn. Walking on our usual trail, there was a piece of birch that must have come down in the night, part of the trunk piercing the wet ground, the rest crossing the trail. We were talking, as we usually are, of our families, our ambitions for our art, both for today and the long-term, our emerging sense of what our work is, seeking a new balance in how we get to all the channels calling for attention in our brains. And here was a bit of art wind, free form sculpture, the morning’s lesson.