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Sunday March 18th 2012, 8:58 pmThe white golden light grows ominously dim, adding another layer of dreariness to my already groggy head, as dark nebulous billows begin to overtake the cerulean horizon. Shadowing the far hilltops in deep dull grays, as if the very color of the nearby countryside were being soaked up and absorbed. The duskiness blots out the last remnants of warmth, and gales rise and fall. Invisibly dancing through the corridor space between the fence and our back house wall, knocking wind-chimes we have stationed around the perimeter of the yard. They’re singing sweetly a random incoherent song that feels like home. The rushes of gusting air blow off petals from the tiny white blossoms of our plum trees giving the faint impression of soft snow fluttering along and eventually coming to rest on root filled soil. Then, without warning, thousands of round icy little meteors crash down, breaking the serene feeling with a pelting blanket of raucousness. There is always something quite enrapturing about stormy weather to me.
Hailstorms In A Small Town
March 18th 2012
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Hello Ashley
Glad you liked it, “lightning seed”, very interesting. And yeah, I love that scent the air has when it rains, there is an earthiness to it.
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This one makes my back all tingly. I was a cowgirl as a child in the South (it was less lame than that sounds, I promise) and devastating storms were a major nuisance… and a fascination. I called hailstones ‘lightning seeds’ as a kid. Your entry touches on some nostalgia. I can almost smell the toasted ozone. Well worded. 😀
Comment by Ashley Helling 03.18.12 @ 9:31 pm