Today, amid the storm, I'll be reading Virginia Woolf, folding towels, drinking coffee, staring out the window. There's something about watching weather unfold that replaces thought. Just looking is good enough.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
I feel silent today. The noise is all outside of me. Rain is falling, steady and straight and heavy. There's no wind yet, though the leaves rustle and rattle under the weight of the stream. I have been outside once already to feed the animals; but as soon as the wind picks up, I'll go out again to lock them all into the barn. Soon we'll lose power, I suppose. We often do, even in milder weather. I'm only hoping I get the bread baked before the oven's electric ignition becomes useless.
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3 comments:
Lovely post, Dawn.
We came through safely and without losing power, much to our surprise, though greater gusts expected. Now I pray the same for my son in NYC.
I agree with you, Dawn, about the sense of needing to be part of the unfolding of the weather...it's attraction is undeniable, complete with the frisson of impending potential disaster, and the whole sense of futility. It's better to embrace it, I think. Even if "nothing" happens, something has happened, in it's power to attract one's attention and hold it. It's visceral.
Hope you made it through safe & sound and without too much power loss -- we amazingly did not lose power despite seeing a huge branch graze our electrical wires. And a huge maple fell on a neighbor's barn... As with Maureen, I was worried for the safety of my daughter in Philly and son in Boston. Thankfully we're all safe and sound!
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