9/9/10

That, my friends, was the real deal thunder and lightning this morning.  No use trying to get back to sleep.  I have not heard or seen thunder and lightning like that since I was in second grade in Richland, Missouri the land of crackling skies. It is the way thunder rolls and tumbles across the sky like a doppler wave,  its sonic surge covering such a distance of ground, square miles and miles of ground that tells you everything under that sonic umbrella has no where to hide.  It is the rhythm that pinches the nerves.  First you hear the volume and intensity of pelting rain rising telling you a black cloud has now rolled directly above you.  Then there is a flash of light and you hope its not too bright but it is hard to gauge.   If its a faint blip then you can count the seconds as miles away.  But if its a bright light that pours through the Airstreams skylight and lights up the trees around you then you know you won’t have much time.  And sure enough almost immediately a clap and crack loud and intense enough to shake you and the Airstream to the ribs and smack your eardrums leaves you with shock and awe and quietly laughing  nervously.    I am sure there might be those who hoot and cheer with glee but they’re the nut cases.  The moment of nature’s explosions is just too overpowering.  As a child in Missouri a bolt struck a tree and a porch three houses away and to this day I can still see that light and feel my body wrench.  The explosions of War might be close second and of course more horrible in its directive intentional purposes.  We can control war.   We cannot vector a lightning bolt.

But the air outside smells like nothing else.  The crisp  air washed and crackled clean leaving traces of ozone.  Even the birds sing in its purity the moment the thunder rolls away to the far horizons.   The pollutions of man fried away.  If only it could be that easy.

the sun peeked out this afternoon so we made a break from the confines of the trailer (sometimes confining sometimes snug and cozy it all depends) and headed to the NW coast to Mabou for the music and Glenora for the single malt whiskey the only such distillery in Canada.  Also found some relatively inexpensive beer, for Canada, only $3.25/small glass!

Headed back to camp in the rain.

Don’t know where we will go tomorrow. 

Lose the hang ups and hang out

shingle detail, Cape Breton

Lose oneself to find oneself

Lose the schedule and find the spontaneity.  

Lose the tourist and find the traveller. ... 

Burma Shave.

Truck is covered with roadway construction mud.  Maybe I’ll wash it,  maybe the rain will.  Tomorrow we will start again.

Mabou Light, Cape Breton

Red Shoe Pub, Mabou, Cape Breton