On this Sunday morning, we are in the midst of an amazing, unusual August storm. Rolling thunder moves from one side of the house to the other. The air is electrified. I feel the couch tremble as another wave begins.
Flashes of lightening brighten the dimly lit room where I sit. John, Lucy and Annabelle sleep extra late, lulled by the glorious storm.
I write. But mostly I listen.
Grace Grits and Gardening
Farm. Food. Garden. Life.
P.S. and now we have no electricity…
The Weather Girls, It’s Raining Men