Thunderstorm

As I type this the first thunderstorm of the season is fulminating outside, menacing the darkness of night, giving the decent people who are asleep at this hour disturbed dreams. The clouds sailed in swiftly from the west, thunder getting louder with each clash, and soon the steady staccato sound of raindrops on the roof filtered down into my room. Sometimes the electricity flickers, but with my machines drawing power from battery backups, I fear not. Since my fledgling youth I have always found such storms compelling, as seen in a journal entry from the last millenium.

5/31/98 - During thunderstorms I always marvel at the dramatic power of nature, but also at the steadfastness of man and his creations. Earlier this evening I came home, and was walking towards the house carefully in the near complete obscurity of the stormy night. A rain was falling through blustering winds, making the environment seem very inhospitable. Blasts of lightning and crashing thunder were all about, making me feel small and vulnerable. As I approached the garage, the automatic light switched on, piercing the darkness. It seemed to me to represent man's stand against the dark of the world and nature.

When I was very young I had similar feelings during strong storms, marvelling at the fortitude of our house in its resistance to the assaulting elements. I remember building houses out of my colored blocks in occasion of such a storm.