That bothersome wind

The wind always seems to blow here. As we are on an escarpment, and a little higher than the city, we catch the winds. There are pros and cons to that.
The pros are that we have clean air, the smog of the city cannot blanket us. We can see the stars at night, bright and beautiful. We can generate wind power, although we haven't as yet. (The theory of this possibility is always intriguing to have in the back of the mind, whether it will actually become a verb, well, time will tell).
The cons are that dust seems to creep in and settle everywhere. The winter chill crowbars itself through every small gap in the window-frame, under the doors, even through the key-hole.
Which made me think of a story my dad used to tell.
He was a deacon in church (even into his late sixties, when he was supposed to be an elder. "What, and sit with the old people", he replied to the pastor when he attempted the subject).
As there were no air-conditioning in church, the windows were open in summer to let the breeze in. This particular Sunday, a nice breeze flowed thought the building. An elderly lady was sitting next to the window, and the breeze were playing with a set of large purple feathers sprouting from her ponderous hat. As the feathers danced, one would bend down and tickle her cheek ever so often. She would then wave her hand and scratch her cheek distractedly.
My father went over to her and asked her: "Is that wind bothering you, ma'am?"
"No, don't worry", she said, "I will wait for the organ to start playing".
-Jonah