I’m sitting outside in my backyard overlooking the Bear Creek. Do I hear rain? Yes. It is rain. The thunder clouds boom off in the distance and the sky has darkened.
What a wonderful thing it is to be dry under my gazebo. The gazebo is ragged, torn from the dog when she was a puppy, and some of the hooks are missing for the mosquito netting – but it works and it provides shelter.
Mom is in front of me – her favorite flower in the spring were peonies. I only have one plant – so far. It didn’t bloom for the longest time but I think I finally got it right.
Drip, drip, drip on the gazebo shelter. If it starts to downpour harder I don’t know that this old material will keep me dry. All the sides are open and the breeze is so wonderfully cool.
Ben is life-guarding right now – and as I understand it – they are to come into the guard station with signs of thunder and lightening. Grumble, grumble, grumble the sky responds to the hot air.
The bird are still chirping – but the dog is close at hand. She doesn’t like thunder – what dog does?
When the kids were young we used to get so excited that a thunder-storm was coming – it was like a show. I’d make a big bowl of buttered popcorn (craving some of that right now) and we get a blanket and snuggle under the blanket on the front porch and watch the scene. We were together and the whole experience was spectacular. The kids still request popcorn to this day – but I guess Ben won’t get any. Nor will Katya as she is working at Canadian Tire. Hope the power doesn’t go out again there – makes the check-out station a bit of a challenge.
On the farm, I remember how refreshing the storms were – sometimes I’d get my bathing suit on and run around in the rain (as long as there was no lightening) until I was absolutely drenched and thilthy from the mud. I loved the rain especially when we lived in the cabin. Mom would always play double solitaire with me.
Often, the hydro would go out and there would be quite some time until it was re-stored. I guess that’s one of the consequences of living in the country. Dad would light the fire in the downstairs fireplace that he had constructed himself from the field-stones that were scattered over the property. He had chiseled and split them all by himself (remember the lessons he had received from Grandpa re: the George Straits?). Mom was not pleased with the process as there were piles of rocks and mortar and concrete and such in the basement for at least four years. The stone fire-place was fantastic when it was finished but it sure took a long time to complete – much to my Mother’s chagrin.
Tap, tap, tap, grumble, grumble. The weather is not sure of itself. Rain? Sun? Happy? Sad?
Oops – the golfer, Kevin, has returned from the game. Too dangerous on the course.
And so – perhaps I will end here as my thoughts are no longer exclusive property of this post.
The rain is coming down harder – it seems to have made a decision – as have I.
High Flight 