We have had a relatively calm spring up until this evening. In fact it's been lovely. The sun shining on a blue sky, painted with those light fluffy white clouds. The dandelions bloomed and the summer came fully into life. Trees are green, grass is tall, small light rain showers have kept everything healthy. And it's been very peaceful. But tonight, we saw a change of pace. A storm, more so of wind rather than rain. But a storm nevertheless. Something in me loves storms. I couldn't explain why. I think it roots back to my life in the Midwest, where there was thunder and lightening- cracking tree branches and a loss of electricity. We don't have that here. The tundra offers up no trees to crack. There's never thunder, never lightening, and our electricity is minimal- so losing it is never a big deal. To most here a storm isn't exciting. But to me, it takes me back to a place in my childhood where my heart would race. A place of pure wild intrigue. A place of a loud crack of thunder, followed by hard rain pounding against an accidental open window sill.
