Another storm is barreling in from the Northwest this morning. Fortunately, I have nothing to do but sip coffee and watch the show. When it gets a little closer I'll try my hand at capturing the beast. In the meantime, I began looking at some recent storm photos. Hubby and I were sitting on the deck watching the leaves riding the windy waves one afternoon and I took some so-so shots, being too lazy to go inside and get the tripod. Looking at these photos this morning I noticed something on these leaves - little winged insects of some sort, holding on for dear life to the underside of a leaf. It's blurry, but if you enlarge the photo you can see them.

Where do the bugs and insects and birds go during storms? I've witnessed drenched, befuddled birds clinging to wind-whipped branches, afraid to let go and fly in turbulent winds. I've witnessed a butterfly struggle along the ground after a hurricane rolled through. Our porch was covered with midges during one thunderstorm, granting them safe haven. I've cried over baby birds knocked out of their nests and woodpeckers struck by lightning. As much as I love a good thunderstorm I'm well aware of their power to destroy. Thunderstorms are necessary but they always exact a price.

Good Storm

Don't you love a good thunderstorm?

Blue skies mixed with deep gray and the bright white of thunder clouds? Sitting and waiting their passing, watching the skies southward blend to light gray as rain begins to fall but only the wind in your face deduct their passing?

Winds blowing hither and yon, thunder in the distance, clouds scurrying in various speeds, various levels of atmosphere? Birds dipping and coasting, riding the crazed waves of winds and wind speeds?

The surface of your wine (or libation) rippling in anticipation, or dread or joy, heralding the coming storm?

The smell of ozone in your nostrils and chilled winds in your hair while the sweat rolls down your back some summer afternoon?

Lakes turning steel gray in the wind as it shifts, heralding a northern stammer of strong gusts, leaves blowing into your back and winding up in your hair?

Winds swirling upon the lake, whipping whitecaps into peaks of froth that swirl to the west, then to the east, in abandon, changing directions as the storm intensifies and atmosphere booms?

Watching as boats race to shore, to slips, to boat houses, to marinas, to sheltering coves, only to be overtaken by the stormy mists that envelope them?

Observing the lake pelted by strong rains that quieten waves and the lake roils murky, oily and dark while the storm passes?

After the storm's passage a sun-drenched rainbow appears while rain continues to the east?

The rainbow arches to the lake in front of you, but there's no pot of gold?

Thunderstorms are such a blessing. A true force of nature that could go either way - heaven or hell - Godsend or demons - nurturing earth or stripping the life force from the soil.

I love thunderstorms for their honesty and purity of spirit. There's no mistaking the intent - the symptoms are clear. Atmosphere must be cleansed, water must be clarified, nutrients must be superimposed into the earth, people must understand their place. Thunderstorms are the great equalizer. Heed them, but enjoy the moment as special and pure.

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.

Red Sky at Morning...

Sailor Take Warning, Red Sky at Night, Sailor's Delight...

Spring storms are rumbling through and I'm so grateful that they are. I adore a good thunderstorm although I'm not fond of the occasional tornado. These storms bring beautiful gifts of colorful clouds and fresh, clean air. Rains cleanse the air of pollen, so much so that our roadways are mushy with the greenish-yellow stuff. Cars leave their tracks within it much like snow slush.

Glowing sunrises alert us to rains on their way. The plants are all greening up, sprouting, blooming, reaching for the skies as their roots dig deep into the drenched soil. Happy Spring!