The Wake of a Storm

Friday, April 22, 2005

And so Friday had been like Thursday, storms coming. Waiting through the still warm afternoon of bright blue skies, then big puffy whites float in, and by three-thirty, there are dark lines on the horizon. By five, there is a rush to clean up the yard of objects damageable by rain. There was something enchanting about rescuing things from the yard before the wake of a storm – shovels, bike helmets, kites caught up in the trees… And then coming in to the warm house to open the windows to the storm and the cool winds, to turn a lamp on, one in every room.