Tempest...

 The weather forecasters told us to expect heavy rain and winds with 40-60 mile an hour gusts. After the long summer draught, I was happy about impending rain, but wind is always worrisome. Trees fall, roads flood, damage happens. We got ready as best we could, filling containers with water in case we lost power, and stowing things that might blow away. All day yesterday the skies were dark, and rain came down intermittently. Dusk came early, the sun hidden behind heavy clouds. I did chores in the pouring rain, with mud squelching up around my ankles.  The animals knew it was going to be rough, the ducks even put themselves to bed in the chicken coop, which is sturdier than their hutch. 

During the evening I could hear rain pelting on the windows and the wind caused the dogs to bark in alarm more than once. I checked in on the goats and donkeys several times, peeking at them via the camera system Chris gave me. They were all bedded down in their cozy shed, munching on hay and safely protected from the weather. 

I looked forward to bedtime, because there is something fabulously cozy about going to sleep in a storm. This old house sits out in the open, unprotected by trees. The wind makes amazing sounds as it hits the walls, windows and eves; whistles, howls and even thready screams can be heard when the gusts are strong. We have a good roof, and this sturdy place has stood the test of over a hundred years hunkered in this spot. I feel secure as I snuggle down under the covers and listen to the show. I know that all my birds and beasts are safe and well fed, with dry bedding and snug shelter. I leave the bedside window open just a crack, so I can feel the occasional puff of rain-perfumed air on my face. The wind is a wild lullaby.  Through the night I am roused by the sounds outside, and I wonder if the electricity is still on. 

Dawn is pewter and the rain still drums on the glass. Again chores are accomplished in a slicker and tall boots. The ducks are overjoyed with all the pasture puddles, the chickens are less enthused. Though the thermometer is in the low 50's I keep a small fire going in the stove to dry the air a bit. Outside is a bluster, but we are warm and snug, watching the grey world through streaming windows.