“Storms make trees take deeper roots.” – Dolly Parton
“A Storm — Shipwreck” by Joseph Mallord William Turner. Turner’s many storm paintings, like this one, capture both the fury of Mother Nature and her amazing light. He’s one of my favorite artists.
And So Did William Turner
I sat on my balcony two days ago, ignoring the drops of rain that blew into my face, watching as Mother Nature had a temper tantrum. While three dogs, my own canine companion, Pepper, and two I was dog-sitting, all tried to get in my lap at once for comfort, I reveled in the awesome concert created by rain slamming hard against the ground, the sky exploding with jagged streaks of light, and the thunderous claps that punctuated the air.
The aftermath of the storm here at my apartment was a huge fallen branch from a tree that appeared to have been struck by lightning. — Photo by Pat Bean
As I watched, I thought of Joseph Mallord William Turner, whom I once wrote a paper on for a college art class. This nineteenth-century English painter, whose canvases often captured the intensity of storms at sea, was said to have once tied himself to the mast of a ship so he could fully feel Mother Nature’s fury.
I envy him.
Why, I wonder, do I get such pleasure from something that can, and often does, wreak havoc on our planet? Why do I not cower when lightning lights up the sky and thunder booms its response — as does a friend of mine who literally hides in bed during a serious thunder storm?
One of the favorite memories of my time living in a small RV for nine years, was the morning I lay in my over-the-cab bed at Kickapoo State Park in Illinois as a mountain of rain pinged off the metal roof so close above me. I had never before felt as close to a storm as I did this one.
It was a real doozy of a tempest, too, one that caused the trees surrounding me to shake and sway and bend and dance beneath a psychedelic lightning-lit sky, while overhead the air vibrated with the quaking bass voices of rage.
I loved every moment of it. And now I wonder what that says about me?
Blog pick of the day.
Bean Pat: Great old Broads for Wilderness http://greatoldbroads.org/ If you’re an old broad like me, or even if you’re not, you might find this web site of interest. Their mission is one I support. I agree 100 percent with what Edward Abbey said. “Wilderness is not a luxury but a necessity of the human spirit.”
Pat Bean's blog 
It says you are alive and well. Also speaks of passion and wonder.
I take that as a great compliment Mike. Thank you.
I’d say it means you love life in all its guises.
I’m with you on loving storms. It’s been a long, long time since we’ve had a good thunderstorm. The earth feels so clean and renewed when it’s over.
I love the way the earth smells after a storm. It’s one of the few scents that I notice, seeing as how I have a poor sense of smell.
I, too, love the sound and fury of
a slow passing storm. We have far fewer
these hot, August days of drought…I, for
one, would welcome a long week or two of
lingering rain. Nancilynn
It is amazing to see the grass in your picture, Pat.
Green…
The courtyard here at my apartments is one of the very few grass lawns in Tucson. Most people have desert landscaping. I like the green, too.
I agree with Mike, above. 🙂
You’ve made me think of some of the places I’ve experienced various types of storms – hurricanes in New Orleans, wind and dust storms in Australia, typhoon in Taiwan, tropical thunderstorms in Nicaragua, tornadoes in Mississippi, monsoonal squalls in Timor. Though all very different, they all shake us up from our daily routines and remind us that we are 100% alive.
Having lived on Texas’ Gulf Coast for 15 years, I, too, have lived through hurricanes. The only time a storm has scared me, however, was when I got caught while driving in a Mississippi downpour. I couldn’t see past the hood of my car. And yes, I agree Alex, storms do make us feel alive, right down to the tingle in our toes when lightning strikes to close for comfort.
What a lovely post! Personally I LOVE thunder storms as well, the bigger the better.
Thanks Sabina.