This week Sarah brings us something a little different, a celebration of nature in all glorious wonders.
There’s something powerfully seductive about a thunderstorm. The air beginning to stir, the sky beginning to darken. The birds quiet in anticipation, aspen leaves turn belly up. A quiet murmur, low rumbles heard over the mountain. Tall banks of billowing clouds roll faster, threatening the cowering fields of corn, the wind picking up and beginning to sway even the most solid of trees. A fiery crackle of lightening zips down and across, energy and the ensuing vibrations sending an excited shiver down the spine. Trepidation and anticipation rise as the first droplets fall, gaining speed and steaming on the hot pavement. I raise my face to the heavens, my chest lifted high and my shoulders thrown back, feeling the life giving force sweep the earth around me, as the rain falls in torrents on the crisp dry grass and thirsty cracked dirt. After, after it is quenched and it is quiet and still, a peacefulness blankets the damp landscape. A promise fulfilled, nothing forgotten as the flowers nod off to sleep, the young fawns and birds lean into the warmth of their mothers, as the sky turns from a brilliant aftermath orange and pink to red then purple then to a faded blue and then darkness again envelopes the hills and mountains and fields, beckoning sleep.