Storm Front

Warm wind, almost a gale, then rain. The rustle of stick branches and the sound of the storm, roaring like a train across the ridge tops. I sit in the dark and listen for a long time. It's so elemental. Sheets of rain and the occasional snap and thud when a branch crashes down. The roads will be littered, but most of the country boys carry a chainsaw in the back of their truck, and I don't have to go to town tomorrow, or anywhere for that matter. Put on my headlamp and go get a wee dram, roll a smoke. I'm battened down, these aren't dire straights, it's just a storm. I remember a night in Utah, I'd driven into a remote location, then hiked several miles to a chert deposit that had been used for thousands of years. There was a shelter there, not so much a cave as an overhang, the walls were covered with images, hand-prints and animals, and I spent the night there, while a spring snow storm, lit with lightning, roared outside. One of the great nights of my life. I felt connected, which I feel tonight, with the howling wind and the sheets of rain slashing across the roof. It's so violent. Reminds you of the delicate balance we maintain with nature. She's a cruel mother preparing you for a cruel world. Listen to the wind, child, to see which way it carries us. Dawn, the power was out, and the wind had actually picked up. Still had a telephone, which was surprising, so I called the power company. Seems a great many people were without, but a harried woman told me I should be restored by five o'clock. The wind blew between 50 and 60 mph all day. I tried working outdoors but it was too damned windy, I kept getting shit in my eyes, so I came inside and read. Needed to finish up several books so I can reload for the holiday. Ham and bean soup and stuffed acorn squash on the menu. I almost started rereading "Mason and Dixon" last night, but decided to save it for a snowed-in stretch. Settled on reading John Thorne, I love his essays. Went on to lose power and get it back four times during the course of the day and evening. Finally lost it again after dark and just went to bed. Came back on at three in the morning and it was like being inside a wind-up toy: radio, refrigerator, several lights. A celebratory drink and a smoke. The wind had died completely, spent. I had some baked beans on toast and an avocado with lime juice, then bundled up and sat on the back porch. Quiet, still, and very dark. There's an owl, close by, and then I hear a coal-train over in Kentucky. Warren Buffet bought Dura-Cell which is a pretty clear indicator that storing energy is the wave of the future. One or two lightning bolts a year would power a small town. On the local level, 4:44 in the morning, I clean out the fridge. A small amount of waste, five or ten percent, and instead of burying it in the compost pile, I just spread it out on a plank. Someone might as well eat it. Listen to some Bulgarian music.