I had been having a particularly good hair day. I had recently gotten my hair cut much shorter. I was tired of the frizz and the effort it took to make it look decent, only to get fed up with it and put it up in a clip almost every single day. Ladies (especially in your 50s), I'm sure you understand the battle.
I took my good hair and my dogs out in the back field for a walk.
Off in the distance, the faint sound of thunder drew my attention to the dark storm clouds forming in the west. We normally have an impressive number of thunderstorms during the summer months, but none so far this year. This one looked and sounded pretty far away, and I thought to myself, just like the others, this one will lose steam or change direction. This one will disappoint.
What seemed like a long while later, long after the dogs and I had come inside, the wind began to pick up, and those dark clouds that had been forming off in the distance, were now encroaching. A few raindrops began to fall, and then I noticed that my stack of plastic flower containers (that had been left sitting in the alcove outside the back door) one-by-one began to fly past the kitchen window. With the rain beginning to fall, along with the strong winds, I debated whether or not to chase them down, or wait until the storm was over.
But, who knows how far those things will fly.
Then, I saw one of the patio chair pillows take flight. So, I quickly pulled on my boots and began to chase them all down. I grabbed the pillow first, then went after the containers, which were mostly scattered between my house and the neighbor's, but the wind was playing a game of takeaway, and just as I would go to grab one, the wind would snatch it up and blow it in a different direction.
This has to be comical to watch.
After I finally grabbed them all (so I thought), I turned the corner to go back inside the house. The direction in which our house sits, in addition to the fact that we are surrounded by open fields and farmland (no interference from the trees), it's like living in the middle of a motor speedway for wind. So, when I turned that corner, the wind smacked me so hard it pushed me backwards, sending a few of those containers sailing, once again. As the rain began to come down harder, I decided to let those go, and quickly made my way towards the back door, grabbing the poor, single potted, wind-pounded petunias, along the way.
Wind-whipped and wet, I kicked my boots off in the mudway, and happened to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I call it a mudway, by the way, because it's not really big enough to call a room, but it is the shoe holding area (muddy, and otherwise), as well as the passageway to the bathroom, outside, or the kitchen, depending on which way you go. Anyway, what I saw in the mirror resembled some type of hairy canine who had just been hanging her head outside the window of a stock car, racing down the straightaway at top speed.
So much for the good hair day.
The storm stuck around for a while. It was slow moving, which would explain why it took so long to arrive, and why it hung around for so long. It was like the party guest who is last to arrive, and late to leave (not that we've been entertaining any parties, lately). And, the wind did not seem to let up. Our grill, which is bolted to the ground with rebar stakes, looked like it could take flight at any moment. It was bolted to the ground, by the way, because a previous storm (several years ago), sent our last grill tumbling across the yard, and was left resembling a disassembled tin man.
After what seemed like about twenty minutes (or so), the storm finally subsided, and the tin man stayed intact. What was left behind was a beautiful evening, as well as a few more stray planters that were discovered and collected the following day. The storm left behind a little surprise, as well - one tiny piece of paper that could fit in the palm of my hand, swept up from somewhere, lying in the grass, in the same field where I walk the dogs, with some words written on it:
Signals
When the light is green you go,
When the light is red you stop,
But what do you do
When the light turns blue
With orange and lavender spots?
Shel Silverstein
As for my hair, I will have other good days. Simply can't beat a good summer storm. Nor, a Shel Silverstein poem.
