There was a great storm last night, pouring rain, lightning and thunder, an angry river falling from the sky. My thoughts on storms are rarely allowed to enjoy the storm and the massive power it displays. Mainly I am concerned about my little corner of Countrywood and Moorewood, our trees and the little structure we call home. It is not that this little corner is any different than any other small square of the great earth and the greater cosmos but only that it is home. Twenty-two years we have cultivated it, worked on it, and tried to improve it. We lived and laughed, experienced death and sorrow, raised children, rocked grandchildren, grown old—grown tired. When a storm hits I feel like we are up against it, that it is us verse it, and I am the one called from the corner of “us” to center ring with “it.” We have survived one flood and two tornados here, one coming so close that it destroyed my studio and took out several large trees in our yard so I know a little about going a few rounds with a storm. All this comes to mind because yesterday we had a new roof put on our home and last night we were high and dry. That round went to me but I know I am always fighting the champ. The good news, the champs Manager is my Father—I like my odds!!!
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| Images from Ireland. |
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