Gathering Storm

Click on photo for a larger view.

This isn't a typical Ozark August scene.  Last summer, under the sky's blank blue canvas, arid ground crunched underfoot, and weeds wilted from lack of moisture.  Now the days are enlivened with thunder and lightning and rain pouring from the clouds.

It's said that the Eskimos have a dozen different terms for snow.  We already have a couple for rain: gully-washer and toad-choaker, but if this stretch continues, our vocabulary may sprout a few more.  

Any suggestions?

Linking with
Weekly Top Shot
and Skywatch Friday

Thankful For Clouds

Yesterday morning I talked with a friend who had recently moved from Portland, OR,

 to Detroit, MI, and, of all things, she missed the clouds.

I would, too.

The sky here started rumbling in the afternoon while I was picking raspberries.

I hurried to finish, and when I got inside, the first fat drops of rain were hitting the patio.

Wind whipped the trees and the rain intensified, slanting in sideways from the west,

hitting the windows like a car wash.

It rained hard for about an hour,

and when it was over, I went to the lake to watch the sky.

The sun had just opened a window in the clouds,

lighting a rainbow on the opposite horizon.

The vault of the heavens, so recently a flat blue void,

was filled with clouds, each unique in form,

complemented with splashes of color.

I stayed there watching, thanking God for this gift of life,

so fragile and beautiful,

 grateful to see the sky, to feel the rain-washed air,

and thankful for clouds.

 

I stayed until the rainbow faded into a wash of green and purple...

...then disappeared, replaced by glowing orange.

 How great is God--

beyond our understanding!

Who can understand how he spreads out the clouds, 

how he thunders from his pavilion?

Job 36:26, 29

Linking with Skywatch Friday

and Your Sunday Best

The Clouds Hang Poised

Do you know how the clouds hang poised, 

those wonders of Him who is perfect in knowledge?

Job 37:16



Linking with Skywatch Friday

Eyes on the Sky

We've had our eyes on the sky a lot this week.

Monday's sunset over the lake was dramatic.

A quick trip to St. Louis gave us plenty of opportunity to sky watch from the car.

We were welcomed home Thursday with another colorful sunset.

Linking with Skywatch Friday.

Silver Lining

We lost 2 oak trees this week, or the best part of them, anyway.

Wednesday, 3 men came with a bucket truck and cut down the top two thirds of a couple of trees that were too close to the house.

One of them, half of a double trunked tree, had lifted its leafy fingers to the sky for years,
and now what's left of it seems sad and bare.

Texture by Kim Klassen

Don says a tree is almost never cut down without revealing something else,

and around here, that's usually more trees.

I appreciated the wisdom of this theoretically, but every time I glanced at the tree,
I could only see what wasn't there.

In the evening, Don went to bed before me.

I sat in a quiet house writing a letter, Barley curled up sleeping on the pad at my feet.

Christmas lights still twinkled from the little tree on the dining room table,
and out of the window to the southwest,
the crescent moon made a smileyface over the lake.

The letter finished, Barley and I padded off to the bedroom. 

From out of the window to the east, low in the dark sky, Orion winked at me, and I paused mid-step.  

I had never seen Orion from that window before. Then I remembered the tree. 

There was something hiding behind it after all.

I drifted off into a dream of summer with new leaves,

and branches growing strong and reaching their fingers to the clouds.

In the meantime, I'll be appreciating my new view of Orion in the night sky.

Tail of the Dragon

Linking to Skywatch Friday