Persistant Pounding-Bruit Battant

The remnants of the first named storm of the year have come to change my landscape. Oh I know I am not the specific target, but this excessive water is accumulating in the fields freshly sown for oats and carving red rivulets in the ground carrying away the grass seed that was just spread. To waste time complaining about weather is useless. That which is significant is the relentlessness of the rain and wind. The trees are bending under the two.  It seems with each gust they move more. My lovely new flowerbeds have pockets of water around the flowers and veggies. The constant roar is hard to ignore. The noise on the metal roof is incessant—thank goodness the roof is keeping me dry. Almost. The rain is streaming down the stove pipe and onto the stovetop and unfortunately into the stove itself. My fantasy of lighting a roaring fire to rid the cottage of the cold and damp has evaporated. And yet, I am as snug as a bug in a rug and enjoying watching the unfolding of nature’s cleansing.

I imagine how different such storms were perceived a hundred years ago. Houses were poorly insulated and the heat came from the same source as the food: the wood burning stove with the pipe rising to heat the bedrooms if upstairs. Knitting was not a ‘craft’ but a necessity. Wool was carded; skeins prepared; mittens, socks and sweaters were knit during those evening hours that we now use to play with electronics. These homemade articles provided essential warmth. The storms could be watched and their severity and outcome predicted based on experience. There were no Environment Canada weather reports flashing up. Did that make the season’s first named storms more terrifying or were they taken in stride, in a matter-of-fact observance of the signs?

Do you sometimes feel that we overdramatize events? Has the barrage of weather reports (or the replaying of dramatic news events) rendered us more anxious about what is to come or more blazé? Would spending more time with an ear to the ground instead of an eye to the wide screen hone our skills as interpreters of the natural world? It could be a vegan approach to the weather!

 

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Andréa est arrivée aujourd’hui après 3 jours ensoleillés remplis de travail dans le jardin. Les étoiles  ont été incroyables. La paix et le silence remplissaient tous les coins. Aujourd’hui le ciel est couvert, la pluie est battante, les vents soufflent agressivement contre les arbres et les vagues dans la baie sont des énormes lignes de crème fouettée.Quel changement en peu de temps!

Ma mère haïssait ces tempêtes, surtout les gros vents. Je la comprends. La maison laissait passer les courants d’aire et le son du vent transperçait son cœur. On peut avoir peur quand on se trouve dehors, sans abri, sans protecteur en marchant dans les champs ouverts ou les bois quand une tempête s’annonce soudainement. Sans radio ni ordi, les gens devaient se fier sur les signes de la nature. Parfois ils n’avaient pas assez de temps de retrouver la sécurité quand les déplacements se faisaient à pied.

Nous  avons plus de source d’information et on peut écouter les prévissions météorologiques à volonté. Parfois on passe plus de temps  à anticiper le prochain désastre que de vivre pleinement le moment présent.

Oui, c’est un soir pour regarder la pluie battante et regarder les arbres se plier sous la force du vent. .. Avec un livre, une couverture et un ‘tit verre de rouge. Bonne soirée les amis!

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