One Stormy Day

My favorite kind of day.

Every Midwesterner knows the feeling. It’s heavy in the air, the brewing afternoon storm. You can feel it in the morning, hours before it arrives. It’s not just the pressure drop, the onset of humidity, the sudden temperature change, or even the striking shade of “storm green” that spontaneously casts its tint over the leaves of all living plants and blades of grass— it’s the energy that you can feel deep in your bones. Once the tornado watch is issued even hours ahead of the squall line, the Midwesterner is either filled with heightened anxiety or sheer, unapologetic excitement. I was the latter, in my pre-parent years. These days, my emotions bounce with reckless abandon between the two. I would love to see a tornado, just not on my doorstep, or anyone’s doorstep. I’d love to see one somewhere off in the middle of a field uninhabited by livestock or any perishable crops.

I hear the first rumble.

Hail might be coming. So the chores that have long been put off are now frantically being addressed. Things like moving my project lumber out of the garage into the shed so we can pull our “good” car inside for protection against the threat of falling ice balls.

The sky is getting darker.

The gusts of wind are occasional, but powerful enough to cause the house to creak and the neighbors gate to swing and bang against the clanking latch that never catches. A candle is lit for optimal coziness. The house has been tidied (minus the kitchen), the windows are open and the fresh air pouring in fills the house with spring. The red barn-shaped bird feeder on the porch is swaying back and forth in the breeze. The birds have decided to dine elsewhere this afternoon.

My coffee is hot. The kids are puzzling away — dinosaurs and alphabets. Rice is in the Instant Pot. Ground beef is sizzling in the Dutch oven. The storm will be long gone before the girls’ bedtime so with the relief of knowing I won’t have to wake anyone up in the middle of the night to sit in a cold cluttered basement, I can fully relax and enjoy the cozy, early spring ambiance.

We sit. We listen. We watch.

Present in the storm.

Sourdough chocolate chip cookies baked on a sheet that was too small. Oh well.

We enjoyed fresh baked cookies later that evening. There was never any hail. No tornado sirens. No emergency. Just unhindered downtime and appreciation for the changing season.