On Friday we had a fantastic storm. It was my maid-service day (we alternate breakfast and maid service duties daily) so I took the boys out for a morning walk as usual. At eight am it was already dark and balmy. A warm wind whistled through the house and a soft rain began to fall. There was an unusual quiet in the air: no birds, no insects, no ocean wind: an ominous sign of something moving towards us from the ocean.
I absolutely love this weather. I love the crazy winds, alternately warm and cold, the unusual cloud formations out over the ocean, the dark and cool. It feels good to be cold, it feels cuddly to throw on a sweatshirt midday as the sky darkens. We get so much sunshine (I know, poor us…) that a big rain or storm is a treat.
I took the boys out on our walk and watched clouds race across the sky, the morning sun shine enthusiastically, then quickly be swallowed by aggressive-looking storm clouds. Huge sloppy warm rain drops fell now and then, as if the rain was warming up for a heavy fall – which indeed it was. The uppermost branches of the breadfruit trees along the road swayed in the wind, their distinctive shape showing crisp and clean against the dark sky. The eerie darkness that always resides under the thick old mac-nut trees was even darker than usual, a different perfume road the winds.
As soon as we returned home the rain began to fall in earnest. It fell throughout the rest of the day, increasing and decreasing in tempo as the storm progressed. The wind shifted from balmy to downright cold and darkness filled the house by noon. We bundled up the boys and ate hot soup for lunch, enjoying a cold, dark winter day for once.
The storm lashed the house and grounds through the night, but had moved on by daybreak the next day. Our normal, sunny-bright weather had returned and the day was perfect: filled with sun and birdsong and our normal gentle ocean breezes. The storm had cleaned the air and earth and the ocean was a pristine-blue, the horizon a hard, sharp line. The sunset last night was fantastic, culminating in a burst of bright yellows, pinks, and blues burning clearly against the fresh sky.
Summer is hurricane season in