The sound and the fury

I am sitting outside, alone and in the dark. I’ve been awaiting an interminable amount of time for my Winblows powered netbook to boot up and allow me access to the interwoobies.

It’s beautiful right now. Mother Nature is providing a springtime light show, replete with rolling thunder and bright flashes of lightning. I love it when it is humid and hot. I sit here and anxiously await the moment, which may not come, when I must fold up my tiny technological wonder and head indoors.

The dogs hate thunderstorms. They cower under any object they can find which, they feel, may provide some sort of sanctity. I, on the other hand, adore the raging power…the loud and bright build up of more rain.

Earlier tonight I played Redneck Golf. For those of you unfamiliar with this silly game, it’s quite simple. Golf balls are strung between a length of rope. You have 2 sets of balls and must throw them at 3 rung ladders to accrue points. You only earn points when your throws outscore your opponent’s throws. For the past few years this activity has been rather regularly observed at my buddy Jim’s. Really, it’s an excuse to drink beer, socialize, and swear at one another. In other words, good fun.

But tonight, being so early in a rather violent and unpredictable spring, everyone headed home prematurely. The thunder and lightning somehow encouraging all and sundry to head indoors. I do not think tonight’s storm will reach us. It’s at least 8 miles off. Last night, however, we received quite a dousing. 3 inches of rain in about 30 minutes. I couldn’t even use the toilet in peace…a mini-dachsie in my lap, a lab under my knees, and another lab attempting to force her large head into the already occupied space of my lap.  The dogs do not share my storm-joy.

Because it is a joy. As I drove home from Jim’s place I reveled in the noise and light. I turned onto our gravel road, America’s “Sister Golden-haired Surprise” blaring from my truck’s speakers, and felt indescribable peace. Summer storms make me happy. They always have. Perhaps it is only more so now, in my latter days, that I can truly appreciate them. Their power, their wonder.

I sit here, in the cool of a thundering front, netbook on lap, cold beer close to hand, and am unutterably happy. Frogs are calling their mates, crickets are singing their ceaseless, almost unnoticeable, song and thunder is drowning them all out. It is hot, it is humid, and I am happy. And that damned whippoorwill is chanting his never-ending tune; it goes on, and on, and on throughout the summer…resulting in either ire or an almost cheerleader frenzy on part of the humans who are within hearing distance. PLEASE, GET LAID OR SHUT UP!! All night long it goes, “wip-ur-WILL, wip-ur-WILL, wip-wir-WILL”, continuous and frenzied. I don’t know if his determination is an example of his perseverance or if it is simply something for him to do when it’s dark.

But it’s simply background noise amidst all the other songs of a summer’s night. I find joy in all of it. And it puzzles me, more than usual, how others can live life without these sounds and instead find comfort in the wail of sirens and the constant hum of car tires on pavement. The cries of humanity packed together into small spaces.

For now I will enjoy the drama that nature provides. It is, in my opinion, a far cry better than the nightly din of compacted humanity.

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