You are the blood flowing through my fingers/All through the soil and up in those trees/You are electricity and you're light/You are sound itself and you are flight ~ Sufjan Stevens
You Are The Blood
This Sufjan song, coupled with this video of scenes from silent horror classics illustrates the way I feel when a summer storm seeps in. There's something morbidly electrifying and invigorating about watching that ominous looking mass crawl into our peripheral vision. My ex-boyfriend used to have this endearing child-like excitement about inclement weather and storms. I'd always loved hearing them approach growing up, especially at my 1930s childhood home where the wind screams past the windows like a low, agonizing moan. But I never really grew to appreciate them the way he did until the recent years.
Perhaps it's because I've had more personal and life experiences since then, or I've just tapped into another part of myself, but when I watch those dark clouds and fierce winds roll in, infiltrating clear blue skies and gold-tipped grass, I'm slightly awestruck. And actually being outside during its approach, you can almost feel the cold and warm winds waltzing around you.
This past Friday, I watched the first storm of that day come in while I was in the office. It sent tingles up my skin as I watched its ebb and flow. I realized I hadn't enjoyed witnessing this seemingly routine occurrence in quite some time. A wisp of sad nostalgia rolled past my cheeks. I haven't been enjoying quite a few things I once used to ...
So, on this particular day, I decided it was time to reacquaint myself with those elements, starting with "The Storm." I pressed up against the window, strained to see the sky while gazing at the sharply bended plants before me -- and reveled. It wasn't planned. It just kind of happened.
But there I was, awestruck once more.
~C~
You Are The Blood
This Sufjan song, coupled with this video of scenes from silent horror classics illustrates the way I feel when a summer storm seeps in. There's something morbidly electrifying and invigorating about watching that ominous looking mass crawl into our peripheral vision. My ex-boyfriend used to have this endearing child-like excitement about inclement weather and storms. I'd always loved hearing them approach growing up, especially at my 1930s childhood home where the wind screams past the windows like a low, agonizing moan. But I never really grew to appreciate them the way he did until the recent years.
Perhaps it's because I've had more personal and life experiences since then, or I've just tapped into another part of myself, but when I watch those dark clouds and fierce winds roll in, infiltrating clear blue skies and gold-tipped grass, I'm slightly awestruck. And actually being outside during its approach, you can almost feel the cold and warm winds waltzing around you.
This past Friday, I watched the first storm of that day come in while I was in the office. It sent tingles up my skin as I watched its ebb and flow. I realized I hadn't enjoyed witnessing this seemingly routine occurrence in quite some time. A wisp of sad nostalgia rolled past my cheeks. I haven't been enjoying quite a few things I once used to ...
So, on this particular day, I decided it was time to reacquaint myself with those elements, starting with "The Storm." I pressed up against the window, strained to see the sky while gazing at the sharply bended plants before me -- and reveled. It wasn't planned. It just kind of happened.
But there I was, awestruck once more.
~C~
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