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Storm

My favorite time of day – is just at dusk. When the settling noises of day mix with the anxious hum of night.  Crickets and frogs wake from their sweet siestas while birds whistle one last quiet tune. It’s especially peaceful just before a late afternoon storm.  Everything has somewhere to be then.  Squirrels scatter for shelter – bees scatter from flower to hive – slow, stray drips from the heavy sky. The farm is unusually still – waiting with heavy anticipation. The rooms of our house are dark and Nick and the pups look more like silhouettes than real figures.

We like to tempt nature by keeping the windows open until the very minute of sudden downpour.

“Keep the house cool,” We say.

“It’s too warm without air-condition” We agree.

Gusts of wind – too loud and too angry to be ignored – whistle through the cracks of the screen. Then the monsoon –the rain- much too cumbersome for the clouds- begins.  Irate drops hit the roof, the windows, the porch.  We peek out the back door – look out onto the porch.  Which way is it driving? Can we get away with the windows being open? We can’t.

Quickly we flutter from room to room – hastily shutting each window.  Puddles settle on the sills. On the floor.

We’ve made it – through another storm!

“Whew. We needed the rain. I’m glad I didn’t have to water the plants,” Nick grins as he flips on the tv.

That is, of course, until the leaks start …….

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