Raindrops on Roses

Zimbabwe has just the best storms ever.  They come with such massive ferocity, they bring you to your knees in awesome, fearful prayer.  Minute after stormy minute, they crescendo, rain falling harder, thunder crashing louder, fear and awe mounting…  And the lightning illuminates this already gigantic sky like a celestial lightbulb.  God, up there in the heavens, must be communicating in morse code, for the sky is being lit in seemingly random patterns, no less than every three seconds.  I know this – I timed it.
 
So, I’m sitting at home with my lights off ; partially out of safety, for this storm has breathed a whisper of fear in me ; but mostly the lights are out so I can witness this nighttime fireworks display.  I can’t remember the last time I stopped to watch a storm, but I know it’s been years.  I remember watching storms as a child, but long past are the days where Canadian storms have captured any trancelike mysticism in me… (That is, save for the New Brunswick storm of Dec. 2010.)
 
And I am writing this in the dark.  Well, I get glimpses of the notepad every three seconds, but mostly, I cannot see.  It’s an interesting exercise, writing without seeing.  I have an artist friend who has a series of drawings that she does in total darkness.  Somehow, they come out more raw, more truthful, albeit more broken.  Kind of like this essay, perhaps?

The storm seems to be decrescendoing now.  The spell is breaking, I’m out of my trance.  Time to turn on the lights and return to a regular evening on the farm.  And wait patiently for the next violently mesmerizing storm, for storm season is just beginning !