I've lived in the Midwest, where wind is the climate--wind and all wind, nothing but wind. It's hard, for this Yankee, anyway, to get rooted in the midst of all that swirling, moving, insistent energy.
But when it's not the norm (or, if it is, when it changes direction), its presence, its arrival, means something. You can feel it before you even open your eyes in the morning--that shift. And then the sound. It's the sound of arrival.
And if you want to make room for this shift? It's also the sound of departure. Wind goes where you don't have to. You don't have to offer anything, relive anything, dredge anything up. Just get up, sit. Participate in the shift by acknowledging it, by being present, by becoming one more signal in the storm.