I love a genuine storm, the kind that makes me shiver in delight at its power and ponderous presence.
In the heat, just before, the tresses of the trees hang unruffled and still. The street shimmers with mirage. The dog is undecided about where it wants to be. Coming inside? No, outside.
Then a cool breath skitters across the yard. I and the dogs lift our noses and smell the familiar scent of change and dust. The grass flickers sporadically, nodding in the sudden chill.
Half the sky is baby blue, filled with frantic birds. The other half is built like glowering whipped cream, flickering with fire in its dark purple belly.
The hiss of dry driven leaves dragging down the street makes me want to dance with them.
It is coming.
I stand at the mailbox to welcome it, shutting my eyes against the flying grass clippings and enjoying the sensation of my hair blowing wildly the wrong way.
I breathe, and remember how delicious the smell of wet earth and ozone can be.
The purple underbelly is almost above me, and I realize that it was soft, heavy, rolling grey all along. The texture is like plowed sand, with gentle, weighted ridges folding over each other in slow, heavy motion. I follow the ridges with my eyes, away to the horizon they came from, and there is no horizon. Only a wall of charcoal gauze connecting the towering cream with the earth below. Within the veil of grey are flickers of pale green, coming closer.
My toes curl in anticipation and the hair on my arms stands up, an enthusiastic audience. I am enthralled at each gust and spread my hands like sails.
Suddenly—an otherworldly crack rends the air. The sky is growling and shaking the earth, and my feet are almost to the door before I know I moved. I am laughing breathless when I spin around to watch. I don’t have to wait long.
It is a magical moment when the grey veil turns the corner at the end of our street. I stand transfixed. She sweeps steadily on, darkening the pavement house by house. The trees are bowing wildly and her applause grows and swells and clatters until–it is upon me. The street is deluged, edges filled in and smoothed over by the jumping, thundering water.
The trees are howling with delight and the wind whips my damp hair into my grinning mouth. The strobe light of heaven illuminates the street, everything in stark outline frozen as the terrible crash fills the air with static. Then another and another!
The water from the Lady’s veil is relentless. She lashes the grass without mercy, flattening it. The cars parked on the street are up to their hubs in the flood.
I have lost count of how long I have stood here, but my chest feels suddenly cold and I realize my hand, gripping the rail, is cramped and wet. I reluctantly step inside. Even from behind glass, I sit and stare. I clutch the blanket and my tea. Cold out, warmth within.
Hey, friends! So here is something cool, just to thank you for following along on this month-long marathon. 🙂 DaySpring.com is celebrating all of the amazing Write 31 Days readers who are supporting nearly 2,000 writers this October! They’re giving away a $500 DaySpring shopping spree, and you can enter by clicking on this link & follow the giveaway widget instructions. Good luck, and thanks for reading!
This post is part of a month long challenge to write every day in the month of October. To see other posts in the series, click here.
Photo cred: Thomas Bresson, (edits mine)