Chickasaw, Part II

My bedroom for two evenings.

The first night, the tarps protected me from the rain. A dryline had set up on the Western portion of Oklahoma during the morning. Later that evening, an upper level trough bringing moisture would create a squall line from Northern to Southern Oklahoma.

On the receiving end of the squall line: me.

The second night, however, the blue tarp was removed to view stars.

As the Great Hunter, Orion, chases Scorpio across the sky, its alpha star, Antares, will soon appear prominent in the early Eastern sky during the Summer months.

On Saturday night, a waxing gibbous moon passed between Orion's belt and Castor and Pollux, the Gemini twins.

"You may be a little cold some nights, on mountain tops above the timber-line, but you will see the stars, and by and by you can sleep enough in your town bed, or at least in your grave."

The view above Bromide Hill overlooking Rock Creek.

The hill was once called Robber's Roost; local lore is that brigands would perch atop this hill to select which westward travelers they would hold up.

The town of Sulphur lies just beyond.

"See how God writes history. No technical knowledge is required; only a calm day and a calm mind."

The setting sun as seen from Veterans' Lake. The low lying clouds would soon turn black and bring a ferocious rain that would last from midnight until 6 a.m.

"Storms of every sort, torrents, earthquakes, cataclysms, "convulsions of nature", etc., however mysterious and lawless at first sight they may seem, are only harmonious notes in the song of creation, varied expressions of God's love."

The next morning, a few deer came to view.

"Deer give beautiful animation to the forests, harmonizing finely in their color and movements with the gray and brown shafts of the trees as they stand in groups at rest..."

I am not much of an ornithologist. Were I, however, this would be a wonderful place to further that particular hobby. No matter where I traveled within the park, birds of all species could be found.

"Nature is a good mother, and sees well to the clothing of her many bairns-birds with smoothly imbricated feathers, beetles with shining jackets, and bears with shaggy furs. In the tropical south, where the sun warms like a fire, they are allowed to go thinly clad; but in the snowy northland she takes care to clothe warmly."

Gather Ye Snowballs While Ye May...

Friday morning, I woke up to this.

I had spent Tuesday and Wednesday at home; it was the first time in probably ten years I've called in sick two days in a row.

I snapped these two pictures at about 7:30 anticipating shooting several more along the greenbelt not too far away from our house where I was certain the snow would be even more pristine.

Alas, when I got home Friday evening, it had all melted away. In fact, were it not for these few pictures, I surely would have thought this January surprise to be a product of my fever-induced imagination.

Stormy Memories

When I was in elementary school, a traveling book fair rolled in each year. They'd set up in the main lobby and it was impossible to miss them either entering or exiting the building. Marketing geniuses.

Additionally, I don't remember receiving a regular allowance growing up. I also don't remember doing many chores around the house so fair is fair. Regardless, I hated asking for money (still do) unless it pertained to books.

This time of year, however, I didn't mind asking. I'd inevitably end up with some Encyclopedia Brown book or some sports book that would be quickly consumed and put in a box in the attic with the rest of my books.

I'll admit it - I'll often judge a book by i's cover. And its opening paragraph.

While browsing the aisles of the book fair (I think I was in the 3rd grade), I found a book with an eerie cover. It featured two boys, a little older than me. One was blonde and wore glasses, somebody who looked like somebody I would like to be friends with. In the background, a warlock looking guy held out both palms in an entrancing manner; and a storm loomed in the distance.

The book was Something Wicked This Way Comes by Ray Bradbury. It remains one of my childhood favorites.

I believe it's because of that book that I love rain storms.

When I went to bed last night, a steady but brisk wind blew in from the south. It didn't have the dark clouds that usually accompany a storm so I thought nothing of it. Plus, our home is situated in an area that when storm clouds do form, they quickly drift over; the rain usually doesn't fall until the clouds have moved twenty miles to the west.

I woke up at 5:20 to a thundering boom followed by pelting rain against the windows. My first thought was "By the pricking of my thumb". The next forty-five minutes were a torrential downpour and blinding lightning storm. I loved it. Melissa and Logan, on the other hand, did not. Logan, who fell asleep in the library, quickly came to the room to seek us out.

Wanting to catch sight of the storm myself (and to retrieve the paper before it became soaked), I got up and watched the storm from the porch.

A few months ago, I sat on the porch and watched a fascinating electrical storm. Lighting filled the entire sky. I took some very neat pictures anticipating posting them here. I went to bed and woke up the next morning only to learn a tornado touched down about 15 miles northwest of here killing several people and displacing hundreds more. It felt a bit callous posting pictures for amusement of a storm where people died.

So this morning, I just enjoyed the storm for a few minutes, wrote down a few thoughts, then happily crawled back into bed.