A few minutes ago I stood on the front lawn, barefoot, shorts and ratty T from the 76 Animals tour (pink Floyd, not Eric Burden). The clouds were low and black and tinged with green, the birds had stopped chattering and the squirrels had stopped chittering. The old street lamps were on and a passing car (slow, giving wide berth, it’s a residential street) flashed the brights at me, as though rolling down a window to shout ‘Ya damn fool, storms comin’!” would somehow anger the storm gods.
I really missed this.
There are a thousand reasons of air and water alone I could give for why the Columbia river basin is the best place on earth, but it does lack this; an angry sky and a storm that pulls no punchs, that rages and howls with abandon. I guess some folks would say that lack is the 1000 and first reason the Columbia River basin is the best place on earth. Thing is you follow that river down to it’s delta and the air and water get pretty electric. Not like this though.
The black green clouds were low enough to touch. It seemed a bit foolish to stay out until wet or to come in. Thing is that a foolish grin on my foolish face is still a grin. It’s a good look, I mean it feels good on the other side of it, the grinning side.
Yeah, no, that’s it. Darkness at the crack of noon.
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