Banshees wailing outside my window. Let them be the beautiful spirits not some old hag. I live in El Duende (duende is Spanish for a form of goblin/spirit) perhaps they are having a gathering. No banshees, no duendes just the wind keening all through the night.
That was Sunday night. Monday the wind still blew, cold from the north. The clouds had moved from the top of my mountain - snow; in April. Down on the coast, the wind had dropped to a murmur, shame I was only there for shopping (all right, and a glass of wine).
The wind has lessened, but it cuts through you, an icy stiletto. Jumpers are the order of the day. The dogs don't mind; unless it is torrential rain (and even then the young one wants to go out) any weather is good for walking. And that is where I am off to now - somewhere over the hills, with ear-muffs on!