Storms

It has been raining here for the past few days and that is welcome in central South Carolina in the summer.  My elder daughter and my two (so far) grandsons were here and we briefly talked about storms.  She is writing a novel about the survivor of a tornado and I mentioned I enjoyed storms and rain.

I told her I did not necessarily like destructive storms just the loud, windy storms that drop a ton of rain.  Then this morning I realized that is not true.  I do like destructive storms.  One of my favorite memories is sitting in our kitchen in a duplex in Lake Worth, FL when hurricane David went through.  I was highly disappointed as I'd see what I considered far worse storms in my Kentucky hills growing up.

I guess when one is young one does not realize the human toll of those destructive storms and where we lived there was NO danger of a hurricane and very little of a tornado.  (However the exception to that rule happened last spring as devastating tornados hit that area)  What we had were thunder storms from light to fierce and from fleeting to lasting days at a time.

I can't remember any storms in the two places we lived before we moved to Spring Knob in around 1957 or 1958.  That was a forestry tower way back from the paved road between Inez and Paintsville.  There was a small log cabin (three rooms) that sat somewhat down below the tower.  The tower was one hundred feet high and stood on the highest point of Spring Knob.  In order to get to the outhouse one had to leave the cabin, walk up the path to the tower and beyond and down over the hill.  Guess if you were in a hurry you ran instead of walked.

But that place was my real introduction to storms.  For our part of Kentucky we were pretty high.  Nothing like a real mountain but pretty high enough where the clouds were going past below the cabin as well as around and above it.   When we had a thunder storm there we had a front row seat.  I guess you could call it a holoscopic view of a thunderstorm.  Of course I was not allowed outside while the storm was going on but I would have loved to have been.

Lightening fleshing up and flashing down and thunder so close it would make your soul rattle inside your body.  We lived there about four or five years and once you've gone through that many hill top storms there isn't much in the lowlands that is going to impress you.

And, it was not just thunder and lightening but I also loved snow storms.  Those little bits of "spitting" snow to those huge, wet flakes that floated down like they were reluctant to leave the air and settle to earth.

When we moved from Spring Knob we went to a place called West Van Lear, Ky so I could go to school without having to stay with my grandparents and walk to a one room school on top of a hill a good walk aways.  I can't really remember any thunder storms there though I'm sure there were plenty but I do remember the snow storms.  The second place we lived in West Van Lear sat on a little rise beside the road and there was a dusk to dawn light on an electric pole directly across from our front steps.  I can remember lying in the little, unfinished section of the second story looking out the window and watching the snow flakes fall coming from the absolute darkness into the light and floating down to cover the grass and road.

Then in 1967 we moved back to a place known only as Nat's Creek.  RR2, Louisa Ky, 41240.  It was a twenty-one mile bus ride from where I caught the bus to the school.  A lot of time spent on those school buses.  But that is where I really fell in love with storms.

We lived there from my eighth grade year until a year after I graduated from high school, got married and moved away.  In those six-plus years I saw some jim-dandy storms.  When one of those, long steady rains would set in I'd move my old, iron bed from the middle of the room over by a window facing the creek and lie there propped up on pillows with a book and a good view of the rain and the rising water.

I remember well the way that tiny trickle of water in the branch between the house and outhouse would be full to overflowing and the crisp, clear water would go jumping over rocks on it's way to the main creek below.  And, the main creek would turn from a small stream of five or six feet across into a 'river' of fifty to sixty feet across covering our 'foot bridge' and up into the lower rooms of the old barn that sat below the house.  I was always so disappointed when the rain stopped and the creek started to subside.

Of course, that was not the only great time I've had via storms.  Hunting was something I grew up doing and "hunting season" was something that was just some words which had no meaning at all to me.  But that comes into conjunction with relationship (or lack thereof) I had with my parents.  I sought any and every way to spend as much time away from them as humanly possible.  So, the old reliable, was to take my shotgun and head for the hills.

Now, being out in the forest (woods) and seeing a storm coming up was nothing to cause consternation as I knew those hill tops well and a good, dry rock cliff was never far away.  Duck in, start a nice fire and find a comfortable place to lie or sit.  Unload the 12 gauge and put it at the end of the cliff so it if got hit, I didn't.  Then just sit or lie there with my fire going and watch (and listen) to the rain falling softly through the leaves.  That was a very peaceful time for me.  I never cared much if I got any game or not.  The beauty and peace of the forest was plenty good enough for me.

I will always love my storms.  In fact when I bought my current house the front yard was overgrown with trees of various sorts and when a good storm would come along I'd sit outside on my small porch, smoke cigarettes (I've long since quit) and drink beer and just enjoy the wind, rain and fury of nature.

I really do feel for those victims of storms who lose their whole life's work or even their life to a storm but something inside me can't help thinking, "Damned, I wish I could have seen that!"