There was a storm coming.
a storm and a struggle
and I learned to say ‘no’
no umbrella would suffice
for the wild winds coming
because I learned to say ‘no’
silence crashed in the midst
being brave was a never thing;
only in daring stories, but
because ‘no’ meant different
ways, I learned to act bravely
to step aside when storms brew
with heat and turmoil in the air
and storms will always pass.
“Out of difficulties grow miracles.”
~ Jean de la Bruyère
French philosopher and moralist
1645 ~ 1696
Rolling growling shoving my mood aside, the blackness of the cloud bigger, louder than the blackness of my mood, as though I have no right to try to match nature’s mood. Burly and stomping through the heavens
dumping cooling rain,
icy hail no matter where it lands. Allowing lightning to pierce the bulky cloud for a
fraction of a second. Just long
enough to see a dripping lamp post,
a shining street. Silence within the
storm, between raindrops and hail
bouncing on sidewalks and
pavement. Then it stalks away,
leaving the drip drip drip
from the rain-washed city,
promising to return.
“There’s something about violently, growling thunder….
and the sound of hard racing rain that settles my spirit.”
~ Niedria Kenny, Compilation of Contemplation
The prairie sky is grander than our puny schedules, plans, goals, directions ~ when clouds gather and become the dome above us, magic happens. Today clouds gathered behind my clear view. They swirled and flexed their muscles, becoming gray and grayer, with patches and wisps of white ~ that clear sky had no choice but to let them come,
bringing thunder, winds and rain and
when finished with their tantrums
leaving us with clear skies at sunset.
“After sunset on the prairie, there are only stars.”
~ Carl Sandburg
no matter the storm,
simply a breath and a second.
“Don’t watch the clock; do
what it does. Keep going.”
~ Sam Levenson
Interested in the pieces of tiny hail bouncing on the sidewalks, against the bridge and on my hooded head, I picked up my pace. The black cloud above, thundering and tailed by lightening gave me more encouragement.
On my way to dinner with friends, I was getting wetter with each step. Veering into the park, I saw shelter! A restroom with an outdoor overhang that I shared with a cyclist. The rain and fine hail continued for another five minutes before wind took the black cloud off to the south! Billowing white clouds and blue sky brightened the rain swept city.
“There is peace even in the storm.”
~ Vincent van Gogh
A violent prairie storm
whipped the city last night,
branches bent ~ twisting away without hesitation.
Today, stunning sun calmed and dried it all ~ from branches,
seed pods dried in clumps,
await their turn to separate and fly.
“Our patience will achieve more than our force.”
~ Edmund Burke
The balcony looked empty
except for a pot or two
They looked awfully lonely
So I planted a potato or two
whether they grew or not ~
but lightning, thunder and rain came down and my two little potatoes grew!
“Planting is not the end; it is only the beginning of planting.”
~Henry Sherman Adams, Making a Rock Garden
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| Photo taken July 2008 |
In the city, clouds gathered silently until angry thunder knuckled our heads, slashed rain viciously on ant-like traffic plowing through sudden rivers and lakes. Lightening flickered ominously through the storm salted with pebbles of ice that rattled car roofs and beat on windshields. Storm clouds hovered overnight, brief rolls of thunder hinted that the spring storm was relocating to drench someone else, somewhere else.
Today, the sun glistened on our world.
“Thunder rattled the window panes two stories high and lightning split
the sky; it was as if the whole world was in turmoil that night.”
~ Sara Niles, Torn From the Inside Out
Families, food and music on
13th Ave closed to traffic
for at least eight blocks and
filled with tents for ~
artworks, clothes and jewelry
jams, jellies and baking
Food trucks with a variety of cuisines
Local musicians played at cross walks
The day started out cloudy and cool.
clouds lifted and warm sun
accompanied Festival goers as
they wandered and browsed,
stopped and purchased,
gathered in small groups
to greet each other,
or line up at food trucks
on this final Festival Day
~~~~~
Later this evening, the street was washed clean
by a prairie thunderstorm complete with hail!
Hope all the tents, people and electronics
had wrapped things up before they were soaked!
“[An arts festival) helps a city to express itself. …
It lets it come into its own.”
~ David Binder
gathering strength
waiting to rumble
to fling cold rain
on thirsty land
or ~ just hover
waiting to rumble
“What avails a storm cloud
accurate in form and colour
if the storm is not therein?”
~ Albert Pinkham Ryder, painter
Born: March 19, 1847
Died: March 28, 1917
Author's note: Weather is so strange ~ Manitoba is floating away, while we are grateful for rain!
Thunder grumbled a giant grumble, rain pounded against sleep.
winds ripped through trees,
cold rain slashed and soaked the city
frayed grey clouds blew through the skies, leaving the wind to dry the world,
shoppers lurched and braced against the wind, holding tightly to packages and bags
today the sun shone warm and bright
as though it had all been a bad dream.
“One thing you can always count on is that
after a dark storm, the sun always comes out.”
~ Greg Dutilly, Many Roads
An April snowstorm riding on bucking north winds, clouds thickened with a million-billion little ice arrows, is soft, beautiful and threatens danger.
Like a brilliant smile calling us out to play only to be hit by the driving steely fist of the wind, laughing its way through still barren trees, chasing geese, crows and ducks; rabbits and squirrels to find whatever shelter there may be.
An April snowstorm feels like an insult,
to the promise snatched away from us ~
after soft warm days, ice breaking up on lakes,
animals and birds mating freely.
An April snowstorm ~ a disruption to
spring flow of gentle breezes and sunshine.
We grow tired of fleece, toques and gloves,
snow boots and snow shovels.
This too shall pass, I’m told.
“Snow in April is abominable,” said Anne.
“Like a slap in the face when you expected a kiss.”
~ L.M.Montgomery
Sacred spaces |
| A Texas Highway in much lighter skies |
