Mucho viento

When the British think of Spain it's often a Mediterranean sun, sea and sand-scape. We remember sunburnt August package holidays but have little understanding of what the weather is like during the rest of the year.

Here in Catalunya, we get the intense heat of the summer, but there is so much more weather too.

When the wind blows here it really means it. It roars through the trees, howls down our chimney and throws the bin around (if we leave it in a foolish place). A strong north-westerly has been blowing since Saturday without much let-up ("Siempre viento in este país," said the man in the garden centre this morning), and last night was the fiercest so far.

When I'm awake and listening to the wind at 4 o'clock in the morning it seems as though every gust will be followed by a bang or a crash as a tree snaps, something falls from the house or the car takes off. But when the sun comes up and I look out of the window everything is as it was. The pine trees simply seem to bend to the force (think of wibbly Van Gogh cypresses) and each patch of olive trees on the hillside turns into a pool of shimmering green waves as the leaves are flipped over and back, catching the sunlight on the way.

Our little house nestles into the southerly side of the hill so we're often protected from the worst blasts. Sometimes the wind can be tearing away behind us while we enjoy the sun on the porch, not feeling a whisper.

On the plus side, a nice steady north wind gets our wind turbine spinning happily. Right now we're getting about 6 amps from the turbine and when the sun's out too there's actually too much energy generated for the power system to use - even if the fridge is on, the laptop is charging and the TV is being watched.

But the wind is wearing - it makes the puppy hyper, dries out my skin and stops us all from sleeping. I hope it calms down soon.