Storm Scenes

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The storm came almost suddenly, though the beautiful eerie green light that tinged everything should have been indication enough. A light that from looking out of the front window at the trees and the grass made them beckon seductively in a luscious intense shade. Yet also telling in itself it, was the more subtle tinge of green to the ashphalt, greeny grey and the small patches of sky which were of an equal shade, a slight green to the white grey they exuded.

The wind howled in suddenly as I walked upstairs and on opening the blinds to lock the rattling windows the view exploded with horizontal rain. At each window upon opening the blinds the rain seemed to shift direction again, suddenly slanting off anew as if in response. The flag on its pole was a stiff rectangle outstretched in the wind fully unfurled with not a single drape. Downstairs after putting the kettle on and looking out the back at the sounds of hail pinging against the windows and surverying the swaying tree tops, the flag had now furled itself fully round the pole, sodden wet into a singular strip that clung bedraggled to its white post.

The storm past quickly or at least seemed to, the green light that remained though was significant of the fact that it hadn't quite finished making up its mind yet. It swirled back in on itself, looping here and there as though the black clouds of storm were individual entities quarrelling above or running wild dancing here and there across the sky laughing in their intensity to wreak a brief havoc below.

My mood is as clear as the green sky, tinged only with a slight air of philosophical musing. Later once the storm is passed and all thats left is debris my mood darkens and I hang with my own grumpy raincloud above my head.

We awake in the morning to the sound of distant buzz saws, a sound that persists throughout the day at various different distances.

An extension cord snakes from our neighbours house from a second floor window over the awning, the fence, across the cubby house, over the lawn and into our garage to stop their milk from spoiling in the fridge in their blackened house.

Driving in and out of the city we look at all the tree branches scattered about the place and the teams of workmen and emergency service teams fixing tree branches and roofs and various other damages.

When we get home the hot water isn't running and the oven is crying for h e l p in an array of small green neon dots.