The squalls keep coming--vicious thunderstorms with lightning tearing apart the sky. Mr. G hates storms and has consequently dragged 3/4 of his worldly possessions to the basement for safety's sake. He's convinced (thanks to Tornado Awareness Week) that our house will be destroyed and only the basement will be okay. For the record, his room's upstairs, so there's a constant stream of stuffed animals, tinker toys, Legos and bedding left along his route down one hallway, down a flight of stairs, through the kitchen and down the steps to the basement. Things get dropped along the way and I pass through and think of the Oregon Trail and all the settler's belongings strewn by the side of the wheel ruts in the ground.
My gardens are flattening as the wind and rain pelts down. The sunflowers lean sideways, the daisies look like giants have stepped through the beds.
On a happy note, I don't need to water anything with these storms. I only have to set the chairs upright and kick the random Bey Blades out of my way when I move through my kitchen.
I'm struck by the power of these storms, they are magnificent to watch through the safety of my windows. The thunder reverberates in my heart and it's really something to see the world illuminated in total darkness with a single flash of electricity.
Spill it, reader. How does the stormy weather go down in your neck of the woods?
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