thunderheads Archives - Owl Medicine: Shamanic Healing

Enormous Thunderstorms

We were bombarded this afternoon. The oppressive heat that’s been building over the past several days yielded to a 20 degree drop in temperature this afternoon when waves of enormous thunderstorms arrived from the south.

Massive, angry-looking banks of deep slate-gray thunderheads slid into our area. As the front arrived, it almost felt like the onslaught of alien invaders. The sky darkened and wind suddenly started whipping around, swinging the birdfeeders and sending the wind chimes into a clamoring frenzy.

We could hear the rain approaching before it arrived. Sheets and sheets of it cascaded from the heavens immediately overflowing not only our home’s gutters but also the creek across the road. What might qualify as a small pond appeared near our barn within 20 minutes.

Soothing Noise

As these storms arrived, our home became so dark in the middle of the afternoon that it could easily have passed for an hour past sunset. The steady pelting of the massive raindrops created such a uniform clatter that, along with the darkness, I felt compelled to listen. I lay down on our bed and simply allowed Mother Nature to soothe my soul.

Laying on the bed in the darkness, I stopped thinking. I felt held by the storm; comforted by the wild saturation and ultimate letting loose of all that moisture.

Temporary Respite

Sadly, the respite from the blanketing heat was short-lived. We never did get a walk in today, although we did manage to mow the lawn before the rain arrived. I just went outside again before settling in to write this post and was shocked to feel how thick and warm the air is again. Warmer than I expected at this late hour.

This month is going to be intense. I feel it in my bones.

Photo: L. Weikel

(T-508)

Innocent Clouds – Photo: L. Weikel

The Other Shoe

We’re all waiting for it. You know it; I know it. We can pretend we’re going about our normal daily lives (such as they are in the Pandemic Times), but we’re all just actually treading water, biding our time. We’re waiting for the other shoe to drop.

That’s sort of how Karl and I felt as we took our walk this evening. The sky was actually relatively clear when we set out. There were some scattered, darker clouds to our north, but I checked the Weather Channel app on my phone and – sure enough – it was still declaring there was only a 20% chance of precipitation, hour by hour, for the rest of the evening.

We walked another quarter mile or so and very nearly turned back.

But then we just said the heck with it. We continued along our longer, four mile, walk-about.

Thunderhead Gathering

As we got further and further away from our home (and shelter), the clouds that had appeared to be traveling east seemed to descending upon us moment by moment. We climbed the largest hill on our trek and saw thunderheads amassing in the distance, while the sun broke through in those magical, celestial rays that, to me, always remind me of the presence of the God I first imagined as a child.

Meanwhile, as we walked and kept our vision mostly affixed to the skies above, we kept debating between ourselves whether the clouds were coming toward us or skirting us. Would we get walloped or would we managed to witness the impending storms merely from afar?

As we reached the apex of our journey, the place where we are furthest away from anywhere we can take shelter, we were rather shocked to notice thunderheads approaching us from the southeast now. It was as if they’d circled around and were herding us, prodding us on, while we could see equally threatening thunderheads gathering in the northwest.

Thunderheads amassing – Photo: L. Weikel

Discretion Was the Better Part

We arrived at a final decision point in our longer walkabout. We reached the intersection where we can proceed along the dirt road, which takes us another 1.5 miles, or turn right and get ourselves home in only about half a mile. Thunder rumbled in the distance, but perhaps it would never arrive.

We started along the dirt road, but only managed about ten steps when – again – something caused us to look at each other and decide otherwise. We turned around and took the shorter way home.

Along the way, ground to cloud lightning, ‘chain’ lightning, sizzled to the northeast. We were indeed surrounded. Rain splattered intermittently, but we made it home without getting soaked.

Once safely inside, I started making dinner and noticed how orangey-dark the whole house was. The color infusing our kitchen was definitely weird. I tried to capture it. This doesn’t do it justice. Then all of a sudden, the skies opened. The other shoe dropped.

It was as if hell was raining down upon us.