Scirocco

Early Monday morning, as the door to my building clunked shut behind me, a warm wind gusted around me. Somewhat unusual, for the last day of November whatever country you're in. I took off my gloves and scarf and began my journey to work. There hasn't been a breath of wind in Reggio for nyon two weeks by now and the change of air was very welcome. As I crossed the piazza in front of the Valli Theatre I looked up and saw the sky, the remnants of sunrise casting a purple hue as a background to clouds like tumbleweeds. The orange and yellow leaves danced down the path in the public gardens before me as I wandered ever closer to school. My students told me this was the 'Scirocco', the warm winds coming up from North Africa. By 10 o'clock it was gone.