They call the wind…?

I read an article a few months back, bemoaning the sparse lexicon of names to describe wind. We’ve all heard of the warming chinook that blows in southern and central Alberta. And I suppose you could say, thanks to Gordon Lightfoot, the Witch of November over Lake Superior has also made the national list.

After that, there’s not much. Sure, songwriters have asserted that They Call the Wind Maria and that we should Call Me the Breeze, but very few people have taken up these proposals. And while there all all kinds of literary and musical references to the wind—you can be gone with it, blowing in it, dust in it, wonder at the waywardness of it or who has seen it, live like a candle in it, hear it cry Mary and so on—they don’t establish names for winds.

Now the following exchange is no doubt laden with meaning to the participants:

“She’s a nor’wester all right!” “Yup, she sure is.”

But it doesn’t reallly count in the naming business, because naming a wind for its direction tells a stranger nothing about the qualities of the wind. And what counts as a signature directional wind in one location could be a completely different wind in another
By way of contrast, the Hawaiian language employs hundreds of different names for various winds. So Canadian English is both absolutely and relatively bereft of names.

How does a wind get to be named? According to one expert, a wind can get a name if it has a distinct personality, whether it be from strength, season, direction, temperature, duration or precipitation. We seem to be free, therefore, to come up with names from all sorts of angles.

How does a wind get to be named? According to one expert, a wind can get a name if it has a distinct personality, whether it be from strength, season, direction, temperature, duration or precipitation. We seem to be free, therefore, to come up with names from all sorts of angles.

Now, if there is one thing the County, and Wellington in particular, knows, it is wind.

Wellington, for example, could offer up the Welllingtonhohummer— a gale force wind that downs trees and power lines and causes unbelievable devastation of the sort that would require Torontonians to call out the armed forces and issue grocery store vouchers. Or Wellington could be used as a starting point for a ToupeetoBloomfielder—a wind blowing a light object a fair distance; and a BarbequetoLakeontheMountainer— a stronger wind that hurls a much heavier object an even longer distance.

The County could offer its experience with harnessing the wind. We could name a wind that blows only in the nighttime and not at all in the daytime—and therefore virtually useless for generating electricity when it is needed—the RoaringMcGuinty. If the decision of the Environmental Review Tribunal is upheld in the forthcoming appeal, we could name a wind that, no matter how hard it blows, is resisted by the smallest of creatures, the Blandinger. My suggested name for the same wind, in the event the appeal is lost, is unprintable.

Of course, winds can be named after vegetables, rock bands, Nobel Prize winners, animals and movie stars, just to start a list off the top of my head. Politicians would make an obvious field. You could call a wind a Rob’nDougger, which would describe a wind that always blows hard, but that constantly surprises. Or a Harperscyther to describe a chilly wind that cuts you like shark’s bite. Or a Justintimer for a light wind that blows just enough to ruffle your hair. Or a Mulkair, for a wind that blows with a superior force and leaves you feeling irritated. Or a Calandra, which just blows hot air no matter what the weather pattern.

Turning to U.S. presidents, you could have a Barackarounder, which tends to blow from behind you no matter which way you face. Or a GerryForder that leaves you unable to chew gum and walk at the same time. Or a Ronnieripper which leaves you feeliing cheerful and totally unware of what’s going on around you. Or a SlickerWillie, which causes a lot of damage, but that never seems to get the blame for it. Or a DickNixer, for a wind that has unaccountable 15- second pauses. Okay, I might as well finish the list: how about a JimmyC, which causes you to lust in your heart, a BushOner, which makes you feel imprudent, or a BushTwoer, which induces bouts of absolute certainty.

Before concluding (“and not a moment too soon,” you mutter), I’ll just note that, with election fever in the air around the County, and political pomposity being what it is, it might be instructive to ask your local candidate how he or she would describe a wind that bore his or her name. After all, isn’t wind what politics is all about?

dsimmonds@wellingtontimes.ca