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Spring storms a'coming

Spring storms a'coming

Its a little after 5 am.  As I sit at my desk, thunder rumbles in the distance.  In spite of the fact that my 80 lb greyhound has velcroed his body to me (thunderphobia), I find most storms calming.  I’ve always loved to watch the lightning on a summer’s night roll across the sky, large claps of thunder rumbling the walls of our home.  Feeling safe and protected inside our four walls.  Its dramatic and real, but never lasts long enough to be feared.  I’m particularly fond of a thunderstorm when lying in bed at night, freshly tucked in, lights out.  A virtual laser light show, right out my bedroom window.

There have been rare occasions when I’ve felt like my now heavily-panting hound (he is laying behind me, on a blanket I’ve set out for him, in our small half bath behind my desk).  I’ve backpacked through at least three very memorable, torrential thunderstorms, feeling not-so-safe, and praying for something–anything–to appear which would allow me to step out of the elements and into safety.  Feeling not-so-safe.  But we’ve always made it out, always found shelter, always been watched over and guided through our stormiest journeys.

And now, as the thunder continues to rumble, the birds begin their morning song.  A ritual, in spite of pending rain or storm.  They awaken and call to others, “Hey!  I’m alive!  I’m here!  Who else is awake!  Who’s ready to eat?!?!”  They are loud–I can hear them over the panting–and persistent.  They’ll be sitting, in spite of rain, at one of my bird feeder stations, waiting for the seed trays I set out each morning.  They know the storm will pass and they are prepared to move through it.

As for me?  I have a few storms of my own brewing right now.  But I’m singing as well, because I know dawn will come soon.  And I’ll need some seed to get through my day.  Every storm passes.  Eventually.

Have a great weekend.