Monday, June 25, 2018

The Storm

I opened my window wide last night, when I went to bed, hoping to catch a little coolness, - a little breeze to aid in sleep.  The day had been humid. and there wasn't much relief in the evening...but we did all the before bed things, Bruce, Callie and I.  Treats, - a last minute run outside and a bark at the gate, and I settled in bed with Prime Video to watch a bit of a movie, - (Out of Africa, once again!!).

I suppose I was only half asleep when the storm struck!

At first I thought "It is the dratted Village, bringing in heavy equipment to dig up the intersection at 7th and 7th, to accommodate their Soil Reclamation project, and they are using 6th avenue rather than main street because it is already all dug up!!"

And then I thought " No, it cannot be that - and it cannot be a freight train, but it sure sounds like one"

Finally I awoke enough to realize it was the wind, furious in its first gusts through the neighbours pine and walnut trees, rumbling through the air and sending strange sounds and fierce winds through my bedroom window.

I thought about Callie, and how she burrows in the blankets on my bed when the wind blows wild!!!

Went through the house, to check on her, and on Bruce, and found them looking fearful, and somewhat quizzical, so I stopped to reassure them, find a flashlight to put by my bed in case the power went off, and we all decided when the wind calmed down we would survive this storm quite nicely.

That was before the thunder and the lightning staged their version of "The Storm", a fairly spectacular show!

 I warmed some milk and sat with the small ones for a while before I went back to bed and my memories of prairie summer storms, when I was snuggled in an upstairs bedroom of my grandparent's house and the room was filled with the growling of thunder and the sudden brilliant  flash of lightning, - sometimes a jagged cut across the sky, - sometimes a light that brightened all the dark clouds and illuminated my summer bedroom around me.

The Similkameen is not given to rain showers and summer storms,
 being partially a desert climate, and I miss that....

Last night I smelled the lovely freshness of the rain and thought how welcome the moisture would be for the flowers and plants and the lawn.  Now, in my nineties, I have a special appreciation for the unusual and as I slipped into sleep I had grateful thoughts that this sweet storm had come along to stir my memories and give me another chance to enjoy nature and her light and thunder show.

This morning, as I cleaned up the debris and put the broken leaves and branches
 into the compost barrel, 
I still had a fondness for the night's events.....

THE STORM
Wendell Berry


We lay in our bed as in a tomb
awakened by thunder to the dark
in which our house was one with night,
and then light came as if the black
roof of the world had cracked open,
as if the night of all time had broken,
and out our window we glimpsed the world
birthwet and shining, as even
the sun at noon had never made it shine.






A Post Script, later in the day!

I have just listened to the local news and am feeling quite quilty that I should have expressed even a bit of enjoyment with this early morning show nature staged for us.  It appears that as the storm moved up the Okanagan it picked up a couple of locomotives, blew vigorously and fussed around and caused a great deal of damage to the cities and the countryside, - trees felled, houses crushed, thousands of people without electricity, even now.  oh dear, - one man's treasure, another man's trash!  Shall I be grateful that we only experienced the beginning of this rampage and that it was quite beautiful to behold???

3 comments:

Penny said...

What a lovely post, we are cold this morning in our Australian southern winter. I do miss my fire back at the farm.

Chip Butter said...

What a wonderful post! Your writing is so descriptive! Why I was right there with you and the little furry ones. Storms can be magnificent in so many ways, both good and bad.

Sallie (FullTime-Life) said...

I liked reading about how you enjoyed the storm, but understand your feelings of (sort-of) guilt for that when it caused serious damage elsewhere. But your enjoyment did not of course make it worse ... (I felt terrible about rejoicing last summer that our little house in Florida was spared the damages of the hurricane, until I realized how horrible it was for so many other people.)