Time for Tennyson

When I went out to check the mail and turn on the Christmas lights, around 3:30 this afternoon, the morning storm had past, and left a balmy, somewhat sunny afternoon. Had my ankle been up to it (and were my driveway not about a 6% grade) I’d have skipped back to the front door.

About three quarters of an hour ago, I looked up to see the sky darkening once more, but not back to the pale grey that it has been for the last couple of days. Instead the sky was the blackblackblack of a serious storm.

And indeed, thick, fat raindrops burst from above, clinging to the anti-glare screens on my office window, and turning day into night, broken only by flashes of classic Dracula lightning.

I’d been writing Christmas cards, and the storm only made me smile – as any reader knows, I LOVE storms – and dig out an old Loreena McKennit cd.

I’m now listening to the live version of The Highwayman, which was one of my favorite poems even before it was ever set to music.

Somehow, Thunder and Tennyson seem to go well together.

At least today.

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