Bring Me Good Storms

Field Notes III.XXI: Because after the storms comes good light and flowers

Welcome to Field Notes!

The month of May brings us thunderstorms. Quite a few have rolled across over the past several days. These are always a wild ride at this time of year, bringing a natural ferocity we haven’t witnessed in many months.

Temperature and humidity are on the rise as we careen towards summertime, though they still have a long way to climb. Maybe it’s only hot in comparison to the cooler times of early spring and winter that we just recently left behind. The rain and wind and clouds are now a welcome relief, in any case.

Many of the storms hammer us at night. The crack of thunder and pounding of rain on the roof is enough to wake the soundest sleeper and introduce worry in the darkness. Is the power out? If so, the basement may flood. Are limbs falling? Trees? They could land on the truck…

Usually these are only somnolent fabrications of the mind. Rolling over in the bed, dry, safe, and swaddled in soft covers, sleep returns to the underscore of rumbling black skies.

On some lucky days the storms part by morning, leaving the earth washed and clean in their wake. A crispness lingers in the air and if we are careful, we can learn the fragrance of the color green.

Fields are still drenched, leaving pants and shoes sopping wet. They won’t dry out til later in the day, but that is fine. It’s a small admission price for viewing sunrise above the fresh flowers of May.

A change of venue. Above these sodden fields hovers thick mist, as if the trees’ reminiscence of rain is so vivid that it lingers along the landscape. The vegetations relishes this water. Water in the soil, water clinging to foliage, water saturating the air.

But in the short time it takes to wade through the tall grass for a different perspective the mist dissipates like a dream already forgotten. Now the performance becomes one of sunlight spilling through the trees, dancing around cloud shadow, and playing over golden meadows.

Thus begins a summer-like cycle of moisture. The heat builds, the ground dries, and the clouds begin to grow again. That light falling between the clouds holds its magic, racing in patches over the land.

Thistles grow wildly in places. Their blooms aglow with a thriving violet vibrance under this dynamic sun.

It’s afternoon. Though the clouds still drift across the azure sky, they gather and darken in the distance. No thunder yet. So far it is just an ominous hint of tempest.

For all the damaging potential they carry, these storms are exciting! Thier energy is palpable in the atmosphere. Yet as strong as they sometimes are, they cannot last- their fury exhausts itself in due time.

It is in that liminal time after storms break and before they fully clear that the earth basks in a magical display of light and smell and sound. So, bring me good storms. I will endure them. Bring me good storms, so I may be enthralled by the world awash in enchantment.

Just bring me good storms.

Hmm. I’ve had a head cold and sore throat this week, so it was a shorter piece today. Mostly just a descriptive narrative to accompany the photos, and not exactly what I had planned to write. What can I say… my head is throbbing and it is what it is. I also got interrupted in that first morning shoot. Would’ve loved to get a longer time lapse and more photos of the sunrise flowers. Oh well, next time!

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