The storm was here. All afternoon we had watched its approach, its shadow congealing slowly through the prairie brightness until certainty and sound were gone. And then we heard what we forgot to hear before - the absence, the loss.
Worst for me (I dont know about him) was waiting for its inevitability. I was almost glad when hours of intensification had broken in a rush of water, light yielding finally to cloudshadow or simply night. We weren't sure which.
He had secured the farm. I had brought in the laundry, set a fire in the hearth, made dinner, kept the children occupied. That's how we stayed calm through the tumult. We were used to this kind of thing.
Storms came often here.
(please email me at knittingthewind-dot-yahoo-dot-com if you are having trouble with the embedded comments form and I will change back to the old form.)
(photos processed using the simplicity texture from kim klassen.)
Softly haunting with the anticipation of the approaching unknown and of the loss that came with the time past.
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I like your new photo...
thanks :-) so nice to hear from you.
DeleteThis makes my imagination take off. You have written such beautiful words. I just want to read more, or make up the rest in my own mind.
ReplyDeletethanks Dawn, so kind of you :-)
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