Experience

The suburbs got to me one day a couple of weeks ago. I had to be at the lake, craved being at the lake, all by myself, alone, me and the winds and waves and birds. Clean air, light, breezes playing with my hair, the smell alone is worth the drive. There's nothing like the scent of the wind off the lake. It's cooler there, cleaner there, magical there. Driving from the east it was clear a storm was percolating on the western horizon. Watching it build was exhilarating even as I hoped to beat it there. Storms on the lake are a favorite event. Dark grey clouds billowed higher and higher as I approached but were still a distance away when I pulled into the driveway. The photo above is taken as I got out of the car, looking nearly straight up. It was coming - not much time.


I poured a glass of wine and headed to the deck quickly. Feeling that pre-storm jolt of air was critical to my being. The flag was whipping and snapping in salute, and there was a respectable chop on the lake's surface.

Aaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.....................................

I am happiest here. This is where I find my bliss, my peace, my soul.

The newly-cleared bank looks good. The buckeyes already dropping leaves for autumn. By now they're simply sticks laden with pods which will soon pop open, dropping their nutmeg colored buckeye seeds onto the ground.

Looking up - the storm is approaching. Please, please, please just a few more minutes.

So much humidity building; condensation beads form despite the wind.

How rude. I really should share with my blogging friends.

Cheers!!!

Here it comes. A sheet of misty gray rolls across the lake, bringing with it torrential rains and beautiful winds and whipping tree branches. Besides the Giraffe Head Tree this dead tree has to be a favorite. Ospreys dine there, Great Horned Owls linger there, Bald Eagles perch there, as do all manner of woodpeckers and songbirds. And squirrels and raccoons. Easy to spot.

I hope you enjoyed this little moment in time with me.

Sunday Night

Storms brewing to the west at sunset enthralled us with a theater of cloud formations. Boiling, racing, brewing, ever changing charcoal mountains with gleaming white and silver accents. Rays of sunshine framed appendages of feathering puffs. The odd rainbow effect of refracted light would shift with the winds, which whipped the clouds into odd formations.

Powerful visions such as these humble me into silence as I ponder just how small I am.

Nature can paint a picture like no other.

Truly spectacular.

There are no words for these miracles.

To the east, the clouds were beginning to cover the rising moon.
An hour later it was dark and the rains came in torrents.