A number of people I know and love actually like storms. Not the violent ones that shatter homes and lives, but your regular, garden variety storms -- lightening, thunder and all. They tell me storms can be dramatic and beautiful.
Over the years, I have tried to be one of the pack. I've tried to not be bothered by the rumble, the clash, the roar. And I've come a lot closer to it than in years past when, in the middle of the night, if a storm roared over us, I'd run from room to room closing all the windows, checking on the kids, making sure they were safe. As if that storm could savagely snatch them out of their comfy beds and carry them to dangerous places.
I'm not like that anymore.
Still, when I hear we're in for heavy storms, I want to stay inside. I want to know where my kids and grandkids are. Vestiges of the old me remain.
We didn't get violent weather last night or this morning, but we've gotten the warnings and we surely got the rain. Again. For Ed and me, perched as we are on a hill, this simply means a muddy driveway, a small puddle in the basement, and a leaning lilac.
And I have to say, a leaning lilac is a thing of great beauty. It is perhaps the one plant that looks even better after a heavy rainfall. It reminds me then of secret, overgrown gardens hiding old buildings that have seen all that life entails -- tragedy, love, anger, renewal and hope.
(to the north...)
(to the west...)
It's not really cold, but nor is it really porch weather. We eat breakfast inside.
One effect of the rain and the wind is that the crab apple quickly shed most of its petals overnight. It's always pretty at the moment when the little white flakes cover the walkway...
It's a very brief loveliness though. Very quickly, they wilt and turn brown, blending into the chipped pathway. And the tree itself? As you can see, within a matter of hours, it is more green than white or pink.
In the afternoon, I am with Snowdrop. She astonishes all of us with her day's project: carefully articulated continents, painted with precision on her own atlas.
Yes, the girl has art in her blood.
The afternoon was to be stormy. I worried about getting Snowdrop to the farmette in light of this forecast. Instead, the clouds broke up into inconsequential puffs of nothing. The sun dappled the farmette land. The girl whirligigged her way across fields and paths strewn with flower petals!
(A timed release with violets! Wait, I have to rub my eye!)
(The cheepers focus their attention on the petals. They love spent apple blossoms!)
And there you have it -- just when you least expect it, the weather can turn mean. Or, beautifully inviting. Today we went from a downpour, to beautifully inviting.
Over the years, I have tried to be one of the pack. I've tried to not be bothered by the rumble, the clash, the roar. And I've come a lot closer to it than in years past when, in the middle of the night, if a storm roared over us, I'd run from room to room closing all the windows, checking on the kids, making sure they were safe. As if that storm could savagely snatch them out of their comfy beds and carry them to dangerous places.
I'm not like that anymore.
Still, when I hear we're in for heavy storms, I want to stay inside. I want to know where my kids and grandkids are. Vestiges of the old me remain.
We didn't get violent weather last night or this morning, but we've gotten the warnings and we surely got the rain. Again. For Ed and me, perched as we are on a hill, this simply means a muddy driveway, a small puddle in the basement, and a leaning lilac.
And I have to say, a leaning lilac is a thing of great beauty. It is perhaps the one plant that looks even better after a heavy rainfall. It reminds me then of secret, overgrown gardens hiding old buildings that have seen all that life entails -- tragedy, love, anger, renewal and hope.
(to the north...)
(to the west...)
It's not really cold, but nor is it really porch weather. We eat breakfast inside.
One effect of the rain and the wind is that the crab apple quickly shed most of its petals overnight. It's always pretty at the moment when the little white flakes cover the walkway...
It's a very brief loveliness though. Very quickly, they wilt and turn brown, blending into the chipped pathway. And the tree itself? As you can see, within a matter of hours, it is more green than white or pink.
In the afternoon, I am with Snowdrop. She astonishes all of us with her day's project: carefully articulated continents, painted with precision on her own atlas.
Yes, the girl has art in her blood.
The afternoon was to be stormy. I worried about getting Snowdrop to the farmette in light of this forecast. Instead, the clouds broke up into inconsequential puffs of nothing. The sun dappled the farmette land. The girl whirligigged her way across fields and paths strewn with flower petals!
(A timed release with violets! Wait, I have to rub my eye!)
(The cheepers focus their attention on the petals. They love spent apple blossoms!)
And there you have it -- just when you least expect it, the weather can turn mean. Or, beautifully inviting. Today we went from a downpour, to beautifully inviting.
