Right before the storm the sky turned a queer pink

The wind came on hard so of course I had to go out in it: why does being out in extreme weather make us feel so alive (because at any moment it feels we may not be)? Is it really the edge of death where we feel so alive, on the cusp? All the blooms came down off the magnolia tree: white, broken cups with their legs in the air, not even starting to brown, on their backs in the grass. I opened all the windows though it was getting cold so I could hear the birds, imagined the dampness coming through the windscreens like a spray, a fine mist.

The dog curled into a ball and hid her face, the spaces between the leaves against the sky got bright with a pale light that made strange shapes…

And the grass was a green so deep, thick, and lush but needed cut.

Charlotte’s teeth are yellow but her hair is long and strawberry blond, her eyes blue, a dusting of freckles on her nose and cheeks…and we regard her with a sense of loss, for how quickly Lily slipped out of being a girl somewhere between child and woman, really nowhere near either, but way in between…and though it’s raining Charlotte talks me into horseshoes, something we’ve never done together in all these years…our hands muddy from the sand and wet grass, to bed well past nine, up before six…night riddled with thunderclaps and the dog nervous at 1 AM, outside on the patio with her barefoot in the depths of the damp, green night, awash with whatever odd visions came before, and hoping they’d return.

About pinklightsabre

William Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose, and lives in the Pacific Northwest.
This entry was posted in musings, parenting, prose and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

12 Responses to Right before the storm the sky turned a queer pink

  1. kingmidget says:

    You know …

    This is one of the reasons why, living in Sacramento, I hope to one day living in a place with more weather. And you do a wonderful job here of highlighting the colors of such a thing. That’s my memory of my time along the Oregon Coast and similar places — things just seem so much more vibrant.

    Liked by 1 person

    • pinklightsabre says:

      Ha! Thanks Mark. Had to crack one off and glad you enjoyed it, thanks for letting me know! Was a very, very rare storm we had last night…don’t often get thunder like that. Bill

      Liked by 1 person

  2. ksbeth says:

    it’s the electricity in the air that is palpable –

    Like

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  4. There are a few places we go in the woods where we wonder, What’s it like here in a big storm? You can just imagine being scared out of your mind with the anarchy.

    Great imagery today. Those magnolia blossoms …

    Like

    • pinklightsabre says:

      And you my friend are the #1 commenter here on the pinklightsabre.com. Have been for a while, thank you. I’m a lazy piece of crap this week on the blogosphere. Been trying to do these ultra-fast posts, written in like 15 minutes. Kind of shows, but so it goes. Thank you for reading, appreciate that. Bill

      Like

      • Wow, hard to believe I’ve seized the No. 1 spot, with all your loyal followers! I’m honored, humbled.

        But commenting is pretty low fare to pay for the best writing I’ve found on WordPress. Keep it coming!

        Liked by 1 person

      • pinklightsabre says:

        Go on stop. No I mean GO ON. Ha, thank you Kevin. Sorry I have slipped out for the week in terms of reading. Need to catch up, been snagged by the sun and my kids. Life is good, best to you and yours. Bill

        Like

  5. dave ply says:

    Nice imagery.
    But I have to wonder: would the sky dare turn a queer pink in a red state?

    Liked by 1 person

    • pinklightsabre says:

      OK mister. You get clever, snarky comment of the MONTH for that! That was brilliant! My friend Loren is visiting from Portland and I’m going to share this with him. Nice one, prost! — Bill

      Liked by 1 person

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