Posts Tagged ‘summer thunderstorm’
Being Amazed
“It was such a beautiful day!” they said, expressing a level of astonishment over the change. A slow rumble of nearby thunder wafted through the open porch windows. I checked the radar for the umpteenth time to find the orange and yellow blobs covered in lightning bolts were still morphing amoeba-like just north of our lake. That storm cell had been hovering close for the last 45 minutes during which we sporadically received periods of just enough rain to make things wet.
The air was strikingly still.
Is it all that unusual for a thunderstorm to occur on the tail end of a beautiful day? I don’t think so.
In a way, I envy that level of becoming amazed by things that aren’t necessarily all that amazing. At the same time, it defies my sense of reality. I had just finished reading an account of the rescue operation after an incident where four people in two canoes had been swept over a waterfall in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness along the Canadian border in northern Minnesota.
It made me acutely aware of how everything can be completely fine in the moments before the onset of a tragedy.
How do we know when the calm we are experiencing at any given time is a breath away from the unexpected? In a way, it’s much more dramatic and amazing how common it is that nothing unexpected suddenly pops up. (I don’t mean to disrespect people who deal with mental health issues that involve symptoms of uncontrolled anxiety and maybe suffer a constant concern for possible looming calamities.)
People certainly have differing levels of perceptions. I can be embarrassingly oblivious to some scenery that means a lot to others. On our drive up to the lake last Thursday, Cyndie’s mom frequently marveled over the glorious summer views out the window. As we passed through the third or fourth town which triggered repeated amazement over lawns mowed or the floral arrangements displayed, it occurred to me how little I was feeling moved by the views.
From a farm just as we got started to Turtle Lake, Cumberland, and Spooner. They all elicited gleeful wonderment from Marie over the healthy displays of summery blooms. My lack of enthusiasm became increasingly apparent to me as her appreciative comments rang anew. Part of me wished to be equally amazed. The rest of me felt perfectly satisfied just the way I am.
Arriving at the lake, Cyndie’s and Marie’s first priority was assessment and care for the potted plants strategically stationed around the house.
That did not amaze me one bit.
I was much more surprised by the fact that the looming storm last night never arrived. Based on the view of the radar screen, it just lost steam and fell apart. Potential tragedy averted.
This morning, I’m feeling ready to take better notice of how amazingly beautiful our surroundings are here at the lake, rain or shine.
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Home Happy
I’m still thoroughly enjoying being home again but last night’s dinner of grilled pork chops left over from one of our fantastic meals up at the lake gave me a moment of hesitation as I mentally revisited the greatness of those days.
It’s a rough comparison since my day yesterday was spent sweating over pulling weeds, running the power trimmer, and mowing grass in the tropical heat wave of the hottest July on record. Who wouldn’t prefer to be back up at the lake?
Well, I’m pretty happy being able to sleep in our usual bed with the conveniences of a bedside table. I really like our shower. I’m spoiled by how much room there is, allowing for soaping up just beyond the spray of water. My regular routine of charging my phone and laptop works best with my home setup.
I like having the manure compost under daily control. Once every week or week and a half is just too much work all at once to get piles cooking efficiently again. Getting grass mowed before it gets too long is also a preference.
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After dinner, we walked the trash and recycle bins down to the road with Asher at our sides, making it back with time to spare before the first wave of thunderstorms arrived overhead. That weather came in with an ominous-looking cloud line and a dramatic burst of tree-bending wind.
The brief duration of the heavy downpour was a bit anti-climatic when that ended up being all that happened.
Not that I was looking for weather trouble. Quite the contrary. We already have the makings of a small canyon in the paddocks where draining rainfall has washed away the lime screenings into the main drainage swale. The battle against gravity and moving water is never ending in my quest to best manage runoff.
I’m afraid it’s time to extricate the back blade from the depths of the shop garage for attaching to the diesel tractor to scrape gravel back “upstream.” I was relatively successful the last time I tried doing that but the exercise remains on the fringe of skills I have acquired on the big tractor. It always feels like I am on the verge of making things a lot worse instead of better.
Regardless, we are home and that is making me as happy as it always does.
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Evening Thunder
In that cabin 3 bedroom, just inches from the open window, the peals of rumbling thunder were an almost spiritual meditation lulling us into slumber last night.
After a brilliant day of pickleball and swimming followed by a nap and a fabulous dinner out, we finished the night with five of us around the table in the porch for a card game.
I had no inkling that a mellow thunderstorm was coming until a notice appeared on my phone. Cyndie had already made her way over to the little cabin and was almost asleep when I shuffled over before the rain arrived.
It didn’t show signs of getting windy so we left all the windows open wide and let the symphony of rain and thunder serenade us to sleep.
My Tour de France entertainment is over for another year, freeing up my morning hours for a return to normal routines, except for days when the Women’s World Cup soccer tournament games of primary interest happen in Australia and New Zealand during the wee hours of our local time.
Being a sports fan can be demanding sometimes. [play tiny fiddle of sympathy here.]
Company’s coming today! Our friends, Barb & Mike Wilkus are due to arrive this morning, launching a few days of added lake place bliss for us. Blessings abound and we humbly revel in the friends, family, and experiences we are able to enjoy this week.
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Feeling Summer
I like the simple designation of meteorological seasons by month, over the astrological solstice and equinox markers. My brain senses the longest day should mark the middle of summer and the shortest day, the middle of winter. By meteorological reference, summer happens in June, July, and August.
It sure felt like summer on the second day of June this year. Last night, as we tried to cool the house by opening windows to the evening air, the enticing sounds of heavy, distant rumbling thunder rolled slowly closer and closer. Eventually, we enjoyed an almost gentle thunderstorm that this morning has left barely a trace of its visit.
Except for the amazing response of growing things. Our landscape is under siege.
Just beyond our deck, the previous prominent low spruce is getting swallowed by ferns from behind and volunteer cedar trees from the front. The clematis on our trellis is being crowded out by a volunteer maple that decided to make itself at home there.
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I don’t understand why the scotch pine to the left of the trellis is so anemic. Everything around it is growing fast and furious. It is possibly being hindered by the same affliction taking down so many of our long needle pines.
The ornamental reeds in our little garden pond are spreading themselves well beyond the edges, giving the impression they will soon fill the space if left unhampered.
Meanwhile, the climbing vines are voraciously trying to blanket all of our trees, the unwanted grasses taking over our pastures, and poison ivy is thriving like you wouldn’t believe.
What’s a gardener to do? I tend to prefer a hands-off approach to the nature-scape, but we are finding the land inundated with invasives and trouble-makers that require decisive action. Desirables like maple trees are sprouting in places where they don’t belong, and though prized, will become problems if neglected.
I must overcome my reluctance and sharpen my skills of seek and destroy, or at least aggressively prune, prune, prune.
In the same way we wish broccoli tasted like chocolate, Cyndie and I are wishing the desired plants would simply crowd out weeds to the point all we needed to do would be a little cutting of the grass and lounging in the garden.
All you folks wanting to suggest we get some goats… it is increasingly weighing on my mind. Maybe I will try renting some for a trial run.
There just aren’t enough hours in a day for us to manage the explosion of growth summer brings.
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Relative Something 