I should be reading or writing a paper for a class I am taking. Instead, I am caught up in the storm outside my window, so much so that I move to the porch to take it all in. In my pj’s, sitting with my eyes closed, I listen. The thunder is in surround sound tonight. Some claps sound like fighter jets circling low over my head. Others are rolling timpani’s. Some are bowling balls. At the foot of the mountain where I live, there is an echo, which rolls the sounds around, bouncing them off the hills and trees. Its low bass reverberates and rattles my bones within me. Occasionally a loud cracking clap makes me jump. Who knew there were so many different types of thunder?
And the rain. It rushes from the sky to the ground…throwing itself down to nourish the forest. It is a steady pounding, which crescendos and fortes as the thunder commands. The individual drops come together in a mighty rush like a waterfall, and then soften to a gentle stillness that sounds as if it is clapping…a golfer’s clap. I can almost hear the ground slurping up the water after such a dry spell. The leaves hiss as the drops slide down, the rain gutters seem to be laughing as the splashing rush travels through the tunnel causing a clamor.
There is very little wind with the storm tonight. Therefore, it will not be moving quickly, but staying, covering the valley with steady droplets that cause the creek to rise. The crickets are chirping their shrill reply to the storm, thanking it for coming. I too, am grateful for the storm. A respite from a long day. A drenching…cleansing really. Washing off the dust and dirt of the day. Freshening the air. Breathe in. Breathe out. Even as my eyes open to the brilliant light show around me, I find that the sounds of the storm soothe my weary soul. I plan to curl up and let him sing me to sleep. Just listen to his voice in the storm.