Travel holds its uncertainties and surprises. That is almost a reason to trade venues, to seek the road and learn what you are made of.
Then there is the arrival; meeting, loosing, missing people; kindness and people who’ll never know how to be kind; stories of breakups and break-ins.
Then there is the storm, internet but no electricity.
Stepping out the door, a coyote morning song greets the day. The sky is clad in grey, lead and blackish clouds. Two ravens silently perch up high and observe as a light morning veil hushes the world. The rest is earth in all her muted tones. The shrubs and trees are but line and form, etched it seems against the subtleties of light. A quietness lays over the land, the stillness, of the last breath before the storm.
Then it rattles and rages. The northern wind takes it’s time, plays on the roof, steals the heat from the house. The drapes move, the beams groan. The tin roof drums a beat of wild chaos. Doors are blown open. No lock can keep this breath of life from reaching you and then the storm breaks, plays out, plunges the town in a cold darkness. When the light breaks through, seeps through the clouds, I embrace the day.
Clowns from Amsterdam
6 years ago