THUNDER IN THE GLOOM

This was the view from where I'm sitting as I watched the storm approach. Reggie (he took this picture) told me that this is the first time he's seen a storm come through here from the North-East in the entire time he's lived here. I'm sitting in the beautiful new open-air office we just moved into on the balcony of Howard Hall Farm.

Crackling in the far-off skies. I suddenly remember that we never finished fixing the lightning rod. I was indirectly struck by lightning in my car a couple weeks ago, but even that did not remind me. This old place is set in a dangerous, electric, storm-prone land. We haven't even put all the windows in yet so it's all fluttering plastic and pounding rains, and this clutching wind...It's only 7mph, but the old documents on the tables of the porch don't understand math and they fling themselves over the railings, past the melted candles and into the pooling waters below. The smell of wet antique woods wafts up from the floor.

It's a very strange storm. I'm listening to a Coil c.d. (the one with a magic mirror on the cover) very quietly beneath the rains, and it sounds like ghostly footsteps behind me as I sit alone in this old room between the deep cracking groans of thunder outside my window. The house suddenly feels as old as it is, and the creatures are crying out in the fields. A brief lull in the rains. ..[I ran out in the storm to feed Lucifer, the horned Shetland lamb. In his terror he lunged at the bottle frantically long after it was empty]....The storm reconvenes...thunder gathers in the distance on the southwest side of the house. It has wraithed around this place and it will pass. The house will survive another storm, and the sounds of the footsteps will fade away. We are lucky to have a chance to restore this place. That it's survived this long without being swallowed by the sky.