We woke to more steady, drenching rain, the kind that hypnotizes you, plus generous crashes of thunder. At some point overnight we lost power, too, so the house was warm and quiet, dark despite the hour. Thick, woolly clouds smothered virtually all of our sunrise. We caught just a shimmer of brilliant lightning first in one peripheral and then another, but mostly we felt the muted dark.
The geese honked contentedly. A rooster crowed from inside the coop. The llamas sat on their verdant hill, facing west, right out in the open, getting soaked and more comical looking by the minute. (Have you ever seen a really wet llama?)
No electricity means no coffee*, but that’s okay. It also means a willful, pressing quiet. It means the isolated staccato of rain falling in our chimney. Stillness around me, absent the air conditioner and other humming appliances.
No electricity means I have a chance to sit and reflect with precious few distractions. No laundry or ironing to do, no music, limited life on my laptop battery, no cooking, no sewing, no vacuuming… Lots of thinking. My heart soaks up ideas and emotions while the fields soak up the rain. No electricity is not such a bad thing. And this weather is such a gift! The gardens will enjoy a deep swig of life without my tangled, cumbersome garden hoses; the animals will be cooled all the way down to their dirty hooves; and the dust on our spirits will settle a bit, collecting some much needed energy after yet another devastating life storm just this week.
The power is off for now, but at some unexpected moment later today it will whoosh back on. The lights will blink silently. This modern house will yawn and stretch and rouse herself for another day of work. Our routines will return to us, like they always do. And we will see that life goes on, that storms always pass, that Love still lives here.
The little reed, bending to the force of the wind,
soon stood upright again when the storm had passed over.”
*About half an hour after he left for the office, Handsome zoomed his car back up to the front door of our house, and I panicked. I thought something was wrong. But he had just returned to the farm to deliver to his electricity-less wife a large coffee from McDonald’s. So, see? A little power outage isn’t so bad. It can be a breeding ground for romance. Even if your guy has to be gone all day. xoxo