And the day after a storm.

Last night we had big thunderstorms which was a little unnerving.  I admit that, in the city, I love thunderstorms.  In the country…. not so much.  The weather yesterday was strange all day – it was warm… the high 50s and there were periods of extreme wind and then extreme calm.  And then right after dinner, a huge flash of lightning which lit up the whole sky.

When I was younger and staying at the farm during the summer, we would sit out on the screened-in porch and watch summer storms come and go.  The back of the house, where the porch is, faces a small lake with fields behind it and behind them a long row of woods.  We often take walks around the lake or to the woods.  During summer storms, the sky would become dark.  I would watch the small lake with whitecaps slapping against the little square raft in the center of the lake.  When lightning hit, it would light up the fields and the woods and absolutely terrify me.  I confess to a vivid imagination.  I always thought it would be horrible to see a roving band of indians or British Red Coats stealthily making their way through the fields only to be seen when the lightning flashed.  And we were so vulnerable on the porch.  Or worse yet, to have the lightening flash and a murderer appear at the window holding a knife, a gun….or even a severed head!  With my imagination run away, I would sit pole-axed on the porch and wait for my doom.

I remember a more recent memory – about a storm, thankfully with no lightning that was funny at the time and now more sad than funny.  My grandfather had suffered a stroke and was just beginning to recover some sense of normalcy, but he would still get worked up over little things.  My siblings and I had come to the farm for a few days to help out, and one of the things we were charged with was to put the row-boat away for the winter.  My sister and I said we would take care of it, but we wanted to take it out one last time before putting it in the barn.

Having that boat out just agitated my grandfather and he kept mentioning the boat.  Patiently, my grandmother reminded him that the girls wanted to take it out for a ride before putting it away.  My grandfather lost his patience and stormed that, “If they are going to take a boat ride, then they should DO IT!”  Bree and I skidaddled out the door and jumped into the boat just as it started to rain.  I rowed out onto the lake and the wind picked up as it started to pour.  Bree looked back and my grandfather was sitting on the porch watching us.  We both started to giggle as we realized how ridiculous the situation was.  And we took turns rowing around the lake in the pouring rain.

This was also the trip where my sister and I, out of guilt and sheer stupidity, tried to eat most of the contents of the fridge. … it’s a long story.

We are off to senior aerobics again today – I think.  Some question as to whether Grammy is up for it.  I mentioned the other day the depressing feeling of being at a senior aerobic class, but I neglected to mention that I also have been wearing my grandmother’s rain coat which is too small for my, apparently, freakishly long arms.  She is concerned that because my winter coats are buried in the depths of my car that my fleece isn’t warm enough.  So she had me try on all of her coats and my grandfather’s till we found one that, well it really doesn’t, fits.   My sister and I remember my other grandmother foisting little plastic, fold up rain bonnets on us when it rained, so perhaps a too short coat is the least of my worries.

Missing you all, but enjoying the time with my grandmother.

As ever,

K.  Quinn