Colorado Low - April 22 2022

 

Colorado Low

April 22 2022

This exhausting mix

of thrill

and apprehension

before the big storm begins.

If the forecast is correct, that is;

because there's always a chance

a butterfly flaps its wings, somewhere

and a tiny riffle of air

ripples out,

triggering a larger one

then larger still,

deflecting the low pressure system

a little south.

Awe

to witness nature's power,

anxious

about damage and loss.

Someone do something

is what's always said

when bad things happen.

But when the compounding forces

of an indifferent planet

conspire against our man-made plans

we must let go

all illusions of control

and cultivate calm,

hunker down

and passively watch

as the universe unfolds.

Because there are no butterflies

in an early spring

of unseasonable cold

persisting snow.

I look out

as the sky turns dark

the wind picks up,

listen

to the sound of distant thunder.

The dogs are restless,

the birds go quiet,

the pressure drops.

I feel the blood

rise in my chest,

my gut in knots.

Nothing to do

but wait and watch.

It's been a hard winter, and it won't loosen its grip. April 23, and there is 4 feet of snow around the house. A Colorado low is approaching, and a flood alert has gone out. A nasty mix of snow, sleet, freezing rain, and rain, along with lightning and thunder. Up to 50 mm, at its possible worst. I fear some sections of roof, where drifts accumulated and the sun doesn't reach this time of year, may soak up that water like a sponge, and drain poorly. Will a part of the roof collapse? Forget about the driveway, which is a bit of a mess to begin with: gloppy snow followed by rain, and it may become nearly impassable.

Of course, worrying accomplishes nothing. So why worry? Probably because that's how I'm built. I suspect most of us are. I am trying to cultivate calm and passively watch, but am not succeeding terribly well. But at least my dilemma inspired a poem!