Spring Storms and Nights for Writing

I secretly love it when the power flicks off during a storm. There’s a click and then a silence as the background hum of the electronics stop. The absence of the sounds makes me realize how much noise a house holds: the refrigerator hum, the rattle of the furnace, and dance of the water pump. The quiet reminds me of summer nights when the cicadas rhythmic strumming abruptly stops and the resulting silence seems conversely loud.   

It’s early spring and at 8:35 pm, my power is lost. The weather is predicting to drop to zero overnight but I’m not worried. I build a fire in the wood stove, cracking the door so that the initial wood burns hot and fast, clearing the chimney of the night’s dampness. Then I stack it tight and close the draft so it will simmer all night.  

Now I hear the sound of the wind as it bends tree branches and swirls across the windowpanes. It sounds like the rustling of dragon wings. I fumble through the darkness for a candle and match. As the wick catches, a circle of light is cast but unlike our electric bulbs, light from a candle creates spaces between the shadows rather than illuminating them. It’s a perfect time to write about magic, love, and dragons!  

I snuggle into a blanket and Tulip, the cat, finds a place to sleep by my feet, purring. The power is off, and as it turns out, my cell phone booster is dead and thus so too is my Internet access. My options: play solitaire (if I can find a deck of real cards), read, or write my own book. What would you choose?

Nights like this are meant for writing. In the busyness of my life, it takes a spring storm to remind me to slow down. To take in the sounds, the fresh smell of spring earth and grass, and to feel the energy in the air and wind. I write an incredible 4000 words, the story flowing from my fingers. I write about dragon bones and hero who keeps her secrets too close. I sketch in a love interest because all good stories need some love. This is a night for writing and moments like this cannot be squandered. It is hard for me to find time and motivation to write; there’s always something else pressing for my attention. This is one reason why I love a good spring storm. Lightning flashes across the sky and the thunder booms overhead. I wish this night would stretch on and on.

It almost hurts when the power flicks back on. No, not yet, I want to shout. The refrigerator hums happily back to life, the stove clock beeps at me to set it, and the lights blaze on, pulling me back from my writing world. 

Maybe there’ll be another storm next week.