The Waiting Game

 It was as if Nature was holding her breath, waiting with the rest of us for the storm to come in.  This is just one of the wires crowded with blackbirds yesterday morning.  They did not fly away as I approached on my way to the barn, but continued to watch the sky, grey after that brilliant sunrise.  And they were quiet, unusually quiet for birds normally chattering to beat the band.

There were things I could have done and things I should have done, and what did I do after barn chores?  I took Bessie Anne and a book and we went out to sit on the deck while we could.  In spite of the overcast, it was warm outside and we decided to take advantage in anticipation of becoming housebound.  Later, I brought one of the Christmas trees and a number of bins of decorations into the house.  Once I get the tree put together (aargh) and the twinky lights on it, I can put the rest of the stuff up and around without electricity.  This is called planning ahead.  The TV and internet are full of warnings about the high winds, heavy rains, and potential for power outages and flooding.  Flooding is not a concern here, but loss of electricity and water are.  I've made pitchers of hummer food to keep in the refrigerator just in case, and keep all waterers topped off.

Others were more ambitious than I.  It was a burn day and smoke wreathed the hill across the way at sundown.  My own burn pile is there in front of the truck.  I won't light it unless someone is here with me.  Even with the ground still damp from the last rain, it's possible for the fire to get away faster than I can move, and I feel better if I've got backup.

Nature is such a tease.  Seeing a sunrise like this today, it's hard to believe the storm that is due to come in tonight.  She's showing off her brightest colors, knowing full well she's going to hide them in the coming days.  And so we wait.