“Faeries, come take me out of this dull world,
For I would ride with you upon the wind,
Run on the top of the dishevelled tide,
And dance upon the mountains like a flame.”
~ W.B. Yeats, The Land of Heart’s Desire
Midnight at the farm.
After an unseasonally hot Spring day and a very warm night I’ve woken to a cool change coming through.
The wind has picked up, and the trees are positively dancing with the energy of it all. Everyone else is asleep now that the house has cooled, and I’m walking the floorboards, placing one bare foot after another in the dark like a stealthy Pirate Queen, trying to avoid the creaks that might wake someone up, so that I can steal outside on my own and commune with the coming storm.
Out here, on the veranda in the dark, I can smell the promise of rain. Every so often distant lightning brightens the sky for a moment and I see the dark bloom of sullen clouds. And all the while the wind is tearing down the valley, the limbs of the trees are thrashing, and the chimes are tinkling and clattering like some mad percussion orchestra.
The cows have all pushed into the thickets to take shelter, and the owls have holed up safely. The only thing running wild tonight is the wind.
This dark, mysterious nightscape is so alive. And I feel that same primal life force running through my veins, illuminating every cell in my body. I’m thrilling with this feeling of being alive. A year ago my prognosis was grim. But I am still here, gathering energy like this storm, mustering my powers and quietly building in intensity.
I’ll sit here now, snuggled into my prayer shawl, legs tucked beneath me on the old cane lounge, cracked open with awe and wonder, and wait for rain.