It has been a while since I took the time on a Sunday morning to sit on the front porch and write. I had scheduled a bike ride for this morning. Mother Nature, however, seems to be in a mood. As I looked out of the window, dressed in my bike gear and ready to go, I saw dark clouds on the horizon rather than the sunrise I had expected. A quick glance at the weather map showed a large thunderstorm cell nearby, with its lightning and gusty winds. If my plan had been a run, I might have taken the chance, but on a bike, where I am still a little unsure of myself and there are more external, uncontrollable factors, I was reluctant to take the risk this morning.
So here I sit, with coffee in hand, listening and witnessing the start of a new day. There is a chipmunk nearby in the bushes. It is worried about something because it is “chip, chip, chipping” almost non-stop. I look around and then notice a hawk sitting in the tree across the street, probably looking for some breakfast. I hear the crows alternating between a single “caw” and a triple “caw, caw, caw”. They too seem to sense something concerning, perhaps, the same hungry hawk. The hawk takes flight, and the morning sounds become quiet for a few moments, and I can hear other morning bird songs.
It’s warm on the porch this morning, but not oppressively humid. It is comfortable. There is an occasional soft breeze. It feels nice as it floats gently across my arms. It goes unnoticed by the humming-birds sipping from the pink roses and the tall purple salvia flowers in the garden. The loud, low-pitched buzz of their wings always startles me. My first reaction is to look for some sort of giant yellow bumblebee. I am always pleased to see the shiny green throat of the hummingbird.
I finish the last swig of my lukewarm coffee. Its bitter taste contrasts with the moist, sweet aroma of the approaching storm. At this moment, I realize how lucky I am to sit and enjoy this relaxing, contemplative time.
The thunder rumbles in the distance. The storm appears to be traveling from the northwest to the southeast. Maybe it will pass to the east of us. Even if it doesn’t rain here, I am happy to be on the porch relaxing rather than on a bike, worried about being caught out in a storm. I’ve decided it was a rational decision to wave off the ride and just enjoy my coffee and the morning. I’ll get my exercise in some other way today.
Sounds of rolling thunder are getting more regular. I have seen no lightning yet, though the sky to the east is dark and threatening. It is the dense blue/gray sky that one expects to produce a bolt of lightning at any moment. Dark, angry clouds in the east are blocking out the sunrise. The day seems moving toward dusk rather than dawn. The first flashes of lightning illuminate the northern sky for just an instant and, moments later, another roll of loud thunder.
As the storm moves in, the lightning flashes brightly and the thunder booms more fiercely. I acknowledge how blessed I am to have this opportunity to sit here, noticing all that is around me, selecting the words that will best describe it to my future self. This is happiness for me, and it is clearly a sensible alternative to a bike ride in a thunderstorm.
