Here's something painting (the way I paint) has taught me: the wind is everywhere.
I know this how? Well, today for instance, I'm drizzling a bit of red on the surface of "Hey Joe" and I realize that as the stream thins out to the thickness of thread, the paint is being propelled to my left at an angle of perhaps ten degrees. That is, I'm holding the stick two feet or so above the surface of the painting and the paint is landing perhaps two inches to the left of where I think it should be going.
And there is no window, or even a door, open. I am not breathing heavily. All is calm. But still, there's that wind.