Storms

The wind is whistling through the tiny gaps in the windows with the sound of a conductor’s whistle on a train.  The pitter patter of rain outside is causing the sump pump to run every few minutes.  On the road out front cars drive the speed limit through the waterlogged street and send a shower of water pluming out each side.  So goes a rainy day in Nebraska.  My mother took delight in rain storms and I suppose my enjoyment of them comes from her.  When I was a child we would snuggle up under blankets in front of a log fire of cedar.  She made hot tea and biscuits.  We would watch the lightning and then count how many seconds until the thunder came so we knew how many miles away it was.  It was fun.  Years later we lived right on Lake Erie.  To be precise, we lived about 20 feet away from the break wall.  When storms came up the lake became fierce. We were out on a covered, screened porch and watched the waves come in.  When it was a big wave we braced as the entire house shook from the water hitting the break wall.  Once in a while the waves were so strong, the water would penetrate the screen and get us wet.  We saw logs, deck equipment and small boats pass us by.  So when I see a day like today, I think about those days and smile.  A storm is only a storm if you’re told it is.