When I lived in Colorado I ached for rain. Not that it doesn’t rain there, it just rains for a couple of minutes, then it’s over, have a rainbow, move on. I missed the kind of rain that goes on for days and days, when you stayed inside and read good books. I missed rumbling thunder and lightning, I missed a cool breeze on a hot day that smelled of water. I missed hurricanes and so I was very happy when God moved me back to the East Coast.
Yes, I missed hurricanes. The air running before a hurricane smells of the sea and turns the world green, telling it’s tale of wind to come. Then the wind does come, and it howls like an animal, then the rain, washing everything away. Hours later the clearing comes and the world is fresh again. I can’t stay inside during the storms, I have to see the sky mad with boiling fury, feel the wind lashing in anger and the rain crying itself out on this poor earth. Somehow, at least to me, the world feels more alive when hurricanes blow, like God is walking beside me when I am out there.
Now there is the pesky matter of storm damage and deaths, I do pray that people are able to find secure shelter and that the damage isn’t too high. But always remembering that with out these storms the world would become hopelessly and forever polluted. It is just that we humans have built up and love our things so much that we forget that these storms have scoured the face of the earth for millennia, and like the forest fires that are currently ravaging the west, they are necessary to our very survival.
So, here I remain, one of the few that is actually excited at the prospect of a busy hurricane season.