I Love a Good Storm
Thoughts In The Wee Hours During A Power Outage...
This morning I awoke early at the lake house and found myself in the midst of a power outage that encompassed the entire area. The wind that had caused it could still be heard whistling faintly through the firs overhead, yet the house was strangely quiet, with not even the whisper of a fan or rumble of a radio to permeate the peaceful silence. The only sound was the steady ticking of the old clock in the hallway. Not even the bl<x>inking indicator lights from the lifeless appliances nearby would give me reference points as I cautiously pawed my way past familiar landmarks, finally making my way up the banister upstairs. Slowly, I ventured outside on the upper balcony to more fully take in the awesome sight before me.
The lake appeared as it must have to the original inhabitants of this place, with nary a pinprick of light on the water or anywhere else in sight. My eyes now fully adjusted to the surroundings, I could easily make out the brighter sky above and the slate-gray waters before me, set against the black silhouettes of large Douglas Firs reaching up like pillars in a grand cathedral. Against this backdrop, I was lulled by the last remnants of the storm blowing through, when all at once, as if to remind me of the power and force it could still command, it whipped the upper boughs into a writhing fury as the large trees swayed in dance while the winds whistled through. One old giant before me writhed his thick branches in the wind like the snakes of a Medusa. Instinctively I stepped back under the protective eaves of the house while the maelstrom passed.
All at once I was jarred back to the present when I noticed a pencil-thin light far across lake near where the gray waters and lighter sky came together. Steadily, it stretched across my view to form a small eerie horizon, when red lights revealed it was a lone long-distance truck traveling north on the highway, and like a train passing I could faintly make out the throaty gargling of it's engine as it passed. Then I was left, as before, with only the dark sky above to cast a darker pall on the waters below against the now sleeping trees whose limbs lay down in quiet relief. I went back inside to find my own rest under warm blankets and soft pillows to dream in the darkness.
This morning I awoke early at the lake house and found myself in the midst of a power outage that encompassed the entire area. The wind that had caused it could still be heard whistling faintly through the firs overhead, yet the house was strangely quiet, with not even the whisper of a fan or rumble of a radio to permeate the peaceful silence. The only sound was the steady ticking of the old clock in the hallway. Not even the bl<x>inking indicator lights from the lifeless appliances nearby would give me reference points as I cautiously pawed my way past familiar landmarks, finally making my way up the banister upstairs. Slowly, I ventured outside on the upper balcony to more fully take in the awesome sight before me.
The lake appeared as it must have to the original inhabitants of this place, with nary a pinprick of light on the water or anywhere else in sight. My eyes now fully adjusted to the surroundings, I could easily make out the brighter sky above and the slate-gray waters before me, set against the black silhouettes of large Douglas Firs reaching up like pillars in a grand cathedral. Against this backdrop, I was lulled by the last remnants of the storm blowing through, when all at once, as if to remind me of the power and force it could still command, it whipped the upper boughs into a writhing fury as the large trees swayed in dance while the winds whistled through. One old giant before me writhed his thick branches in the wind like the snakes of a Medusa. Instinctively I stepped back under the protective eaves of the house while the maelstrom passed.
All at once I was jarred back to the present when I noticed a pencil-thin light far across lake near where the gray waters and lighter sky came together. Steadily, it stretched across my view to form a small eerie horizon, when red lights revealed it was a lone long-distance truck traveling north on the highway, and like a train passing I could faintly make out the throaty gargling of it's engine as it passed. Then I was left, as before, with only the dark sky above to cast a darker pall on the waters below against the now sleeping trees whose limbs lay down in quiet relief. I went back inside to find my own rest under warm blankets and soft pillows to dream in the darkness.
61-69, M
