I watch a colorful, yet ominous blob move over our home, figuratively that is. The blob is on NOAA’s weather radar map and it looms ablaze with yellows, oranges, reds and bits of dreaded purple. The color you don’t ever want to see is brown.
We know the storm drill by now and have earlier “battened down the hatches.” Our wooden adirondack chairs are stowed on their sides, close to a windward wall. The tiles on our outdoor table have been removed and stacked and the table is bungee-corded to the deck. Bungee-cords also secure other stacked chairs and our grill. We now know from first-hand experience that failing to do so can result in such objects becoming wind-borne and sent through the adjacent windows. Oh, and the patio umbrella was removed and brought indoors, because if that darn thing gets airborne who knows what it will impale or where it will land.
Marble-sized hail bang against the house. Lightning flashes and thunder shakes our foundation. Lights flicker on and off as ComEd’s system automatically switches feeders to compensate as one or more electric feeders go down nearby. Our trees bend sideways from the wind, and it’s a reminder that downed trees are often the culprit in rural outages as they stand tall, but are subjected to crown twist, stem, root or branch failure and direct lightning strikes.
But, I have found peace in the storm.
As we hit our third consecutive day of summer storms, with more on the way, I finally have time to post to my blog, a blog I began last autumn. I was averaging one blog per week until summer arrived and with it came my “thief of time:” the game of golf.
We live directly on a golf course. On weekdays we try to get out early, rising before 6 a.m. to get out before the leagues begin. Doing so, the two of us can finish 18 in just under 3 hours. At such times it seems as if we have the entire course to ourselves. Occasionally we’ll see Dan, who I’ve nicknamed “Daniac” for the manic speed with which he plays. Although golf rules dictate that we are not required to let him, as a single, pass us in his play, we always wave him through. Dan tees from the “blues.” He tells us that he sometimes will play 100 holes of golf per day.
The only others we encounter most mornings are the course maintenance crew. We know them by name and we’ve developed a symbiosis with them. If they are busy reworking a particular hole, we bypass it. They, in return, will feed us the lost balls they rake up along the way. We share our latest bug repellant recipes with them. In return they busy themselves and look away when we duff the ball and give us a cheer or thumbs-up for our better shots.
My muse has been nagging me again with those ideas of hers.
So check in now and then to see if I’ve heeded her prompts.
The first of todays' expected storms has ended, so in betwixt and between, we'll head out for our "storm damage assessment" walk. :-)
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