I would love to blog about something witty and terribly entertaining.
But all that’s on my mind right now are storms.
Even though I live in an urban area, my house is located in a spot that affords you an up close and personal experience with storms as they pass by. The house sits on a small dead end, that drops off in a gentle cliff fall with a valley below and then a river. The trees up here are all at least three stories in height, and as old as my house if not older, which puts them somewhere in the 100+ range give or take. Our house faces north, and when the wind whips down the valley and through our trees, it comes screeching like a Banshee, clawing at the house, rattling the windows and rafters like brittle, musical bones. And when the thunder starts, you can feel it in your blood. Trees sway and bend, and sometimes, when the power is really high, they shatter and break.
The two houses that remain on the maybe list were both viewed beneath a canopy of brewing storms. I have to wonder if that’s what really keeps them at the top despite their unique issues. Every time I picture them in my mind's eye, the skies above are dark grey, fast moving, and I can hear the thunder, soft but promising.
One of the things I love to do during night time thunderstorms is open the windows to the upstairs, sit in the darkness, feel the unsettled air dance across my skin, and soak in the rumbling energy as it passes by. A primal part of me wants to run wild with that storm, head outside and dance in the rain as it falls. Where I am now, you are part of the storm when it comes through town, unprotected and unfettered.
The houses appealing to me, other than these two, are all located in high spots, and at first I thought perhaps I liked that because I was perched above things, safe from all that could rise up from below. But now I wonder if it isn’t the need to be close to the sky, all that crazy wind, cold northern or charged electric, sweeping around me like pixie dust and magic.
This is something I need where ever next I hang my hat: to be so close to the action I can feel the thrill in my veins before the front brakes and comes crashing through the neighborhood.