#64 - Weathervanes

Driving to work every morning, I pass by a farmhouse with a big, old shingled barn attached. On the peak of the barn’s roof is a weathervane, a fox, trotting in the wind. Up against the sky, that fox cuts a unique figure. I always notice it no matter what I have on my mind.

That is the effect a weathervane is supposed have on the person on the ground; it should at once tell a story to its viewer, make a statement about what goes on under its spell and, incidentally, tell which way the wind blows. A weathervane is truly alive, forever shifting its outlook on the world below, always presenting a new face to the weather. That is its lot in life, perched as it is a atop some of our proudest structures.

When Europeans first came to the New World, they came on the wind, seeking new freedoms from many forms of persecution and suppression. Such pioneers were, almost by definition, adventurous souls with imagination who came here to build their lives anew. Creative expression was their lifeblood.

And so it was, with this newfound freedom to make bold statements, that weathervanes became one of the very first expressive art forms on these shores. In fact, in many cases, they virtually became coats of arms. Made of wood or metal, or both, they were many times just crude renditions of farmyard animals or sailing ships or even fanciful representations of the artisan’s imaginings, and their makers mounted these creations high in the sky for all around to see. Of course, too, many weathervanes were true works of art and engineering, masterfully put together to both delight the eye and to withstand the rigors of the elements.

It is not surprising, I suppose, that weathervane should have become the earliest New World sculptor’s medium, for he was, as likely as not, a farmer or a fisherman as well, and his daily routine hinged very heavily on what the weather was doing. This made the vane on his roof one of his handiest forecasting tools.

Today’s largely indoor existence with television weathermen has pretty well nullified the significance of the weathervane to the point that nowadays it is nothing more than a generic embellishment thought up and fashioned by a total stranger for a catalog company. That's too bad. It's always a sorry day when a good a good thing fades away.

But tradition is the tenacious, jealous guardian of good ideas. A trip through the countryside can now and again turn up some curious surprises. I always keep an eye on the rooftops, because here and there might fly a weathervane with a real tale to tell . . . about the owner under its spell and what he has on his mind. And the weather - I always like to know where the weather is coming from.