I immediately thought, “I understand her feelings.” There’s nothing like a storm to make the comforts of a fire and a hot meal stand out in relief at the end of the daily routine. Then I thought, “I suppose there are others who could do just as well without, those who prefer warm and dry weather climes; or Pete, like other livestock owners, who worry about their stock surviving a 'good storm'.” But, I believe there is a certain draw to winter’s weather drama: the atmospheric world sounding off, blowing in and blowing out, leaving earth bound creatures the gift of powder for recreation and moisture to sustain life as we know it. This winter we are indeed thirsting for that moisture. We are in the midst of record winter drought in northwestern Colorado with snow pack at 43% of a normal winter year.
As sentient creatures of the physical world, I imagine we may long for interaction with weather’s heartbeat, its wildness, its potential to both destroy and nurture the landscape we inhabit. After this winter’s unusual quiet and meager snowfall, perhaps we’re anxious for the next passage, not unlike the audience awaiting the a change in pace and mood of an orchestral symphony. I feel as though the adagio movement of this winter's symphony has overstayed its welcome. I thirst for a new rhythm to inhabit our landscape, perhaps an allegretto or with the hurricane force winds forecasted, a prestissimo, the most rapid of symphonic movements.
So, if the "good storm" arrives and we storm lovers can hole up in front of a fire with a throw and a book, I will, as I always do, look forward to both the excitement of a new movement in winter's symphony as well as the reassurance of the nest - swaddled in creature comforts, warmed by the fire.