Saturday I posted a photo of an approaching storm with a caption ending in “y’all forgive me but I love a good storm” and it was a very good storm… or a very bad one depending on your perspective.
After posting that photo we journeyed to my son’s home in adjacent Van Zandt county for a fish-fry and enjoyed the show from the safety of his garage. As lightening danced and crackled over the oak trees we cracked jokes, reminisced and watched crispy fillets float to the surface in vats of boiling oil. We didn’t even mind the loss of electricity; it did not affect us — we were cooking with propane.
Little did we know only miles away lives and livelihoods were being destroyed. As we were laughing ourselves to tears, others wept in fear and sorrow.
We made our way back home [to a dark but undisturbed house] as the radio blasted warnings and tales of catastrophe; declaring several tornadoes had passed through the area(s). It turns out there were seven. Seven tornadoes.
I did not perceive the impact until power was restored several days later and I could get a visual.
It definitely causes one to reflect.
These photos were taken yesterday from [almost] the same position of the one Saturday. The same southern tree line is just above this view.
I still love a good storm but lord my heart does break for all those suffering a loss. I would appreciate it if you all would take a few seconds and send a positive thought or prayer their way.
I have never loved winter. The truth is I have hated her most of my life, I say her because she feels like a cold b*tch. Sorry warm fuzzy lady friends but winter to me has been a bitter woman with a barren womb… a frustrated old spinster that has never shared an orgasm. She is an ugly gray witch with a huge wart on the end of her nose, or maybe it’s a mole…
Today however I have decided not to hate her. I actually made the decision yesterday but just now got around to sharing my ‘come to meeting’ with Mother Nature. You see we have been experiencing some warm sunny days in this part of Texas, warm enough to spark a storm (lord forgive me I do love a storm) and it was that very tempest that let me see the heart of winter.
I saw her weakness in the barren branches
Her sorrow in the ashen sky
Her longing for an absent lover
As lonely as the winter rye