Thursday brought some crazy weather to Oklahoma. A lightning quick (get it?) and rather violent storm hit the farm suddenly in the middle of the afternoon. The morning’s flannel grey skies turned black. The warm, humid air turned icy cold. And all those fallen oak leaves twirled upward in spirals and autumnal confetti bursts. Rain flooded the middle field in just moments and ran in a silver-white, frothing stream downhill. The pond churned like a tiny ocean. Our east facing barn doors were blown out, or maybe the horses broke them out? It’s hard to say.
Then the storm passed as suddenly as it had arrived. The skies calmed. Half-hearted thunder and thread-thin cracks of lightning kept me watching the skies for a few more hours, but overall the farm was quiet. I returned the horses to their field, consoled the agitated llama, and texted photos of the barn doors to my husband.
By evening, the air was so sweet. Clean and sweet, rinsed out and blown through by the storm. Settled. Fog appeared between the trees and above the grass in cottony streaks, filling every dip and corner with opaque white. It was a stunning kind of quiet. I adore the way fog muffles everything, and I think evening fog is an especially nice gift.
Klaus played and romped around in the gentle dusk while I watched Handsome repair the barn doors. Then he (Klaus, not my husband) appeared from behind the giant hay bales, smelling like sage bush. I imagined he was a small, Spanish-speaking werewolf, which may in fact be the case.
When the farm is so drenched in magic like this I cannot fix my eyes on one thing. Neither my mind. I want to collect all the details and force them into some kind of permanence. Which is silly, of course, because a big part of magic is that it is fleeting, elusive. So instead I hope to at least remember how pink the eastern sky was as the moon rose and how the pine trees vibrated with fragrance. I hope to remember how hard my husband worked to fix the barn doors, at the end of an exhausting day at his real job. I hope to think about this storm, its suddenness, and how grateful I am that no animals were hurt.
Storms come and go, and everything is beautiful and weird.