Friday, June 12, 2009

Something Wicked This Way Comes

So far we have had six consecutive days of crazy weather here. It's easily the longest stretch since we have lived here. The kind of day when you spend at least a few seconds every few minutes glancing up at the sky, peeking in every direction, and wondering about which way the winds are blowing. Today is supposed to be more of the same. I'm starting to think I live in Kansas, not Colorado.

Even for people who grew up around here, this year seems excessive. The meteorologists insist that it isn't, but many people would beg to differ. The first half of June tends to be the most active time for weather here, it's true. But this is just crazy.

The sirens haven't gone off here for a couple days, but the weather warnings are always scrolling across the bottom of the television. The kids know all too well what that blaring noise and blank screen mean. When that computerized voice comes on, they know to be quiet so that Mommy can listen. I need to know where this warning or watch is for, and which way the weather is headed.

We have had rain every night for the last week, almost like clockwork. It comes in with the second, or sometimes third, wave of moisture for the day. And it isn't just any old rain. It starts around sunset, and continues for however long the cell can sustain itself. I know where they came up with the phrase "raining buckets", because it has been doing that here. Last night, between the hail and the rain, the poor rain gutters on the house seemed insignificant. They served more as channel for the rain than any sort of gathering mechanism.

The dogs like to alert me that a storm is coming. Sometimes, they know more than my eyes can tell me, and even sometimes more than the radar can tell me. They make no attempts at bravery, and at the first hint of thunder, they are begging to come in. Crying, whimpering, they curl up under my feet. Follow me everywhere around the house until it passes. The funny part is that I would generally consider both of them to be Tom's dogs. They don't listen to me much, that's for sure. But if there is a storm around, suddenly they want me. I've spent a lot of time this week, in the basement when has been the worst, with the dogs huddled around my feet, both of the girls seemingly in my pocket and the baby on my lap.

The storms don't bother Aidan nearly as much as they bother the girls. Perhaps that is because he was safely inside a bathroom at school last May while we I was stuck with the girls outside when the funnel cloud started coming down. They know, all too well, what the clouds can turn into. They have been pelted with golf ball sized hail. They know just how scary the weather can be.

And so today begins as every other day has this week. Partly cloudy, relatively calm. It won't stay that way for long. Something wicked this way comes.

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