Storm song

By Christine Tailer
HCP columnist

Black clouds roiled over the top of the valley, though white billowy clouds still floated easily across a blue sky to the north. A storm was approaching. The valley air had been still, but now I could feel a breeze blowing loose strands of hair across my forehead, and I noticed that the air now smelled like the river, three miles downstream. Several fat raindrops landed on the brim of my cap.

I stood up from the garden beds, put my tools back in the greenhouse, and climbed the hill to the cabin. My dog dutifully followed. The front porch awaited. It had occurred to me that from the porch I would have the perfect view of the approaching storm. I sat down on the swing, dog by my side. I put my arm around her rain-wet shoulder and drew her close. We watched and listened.

We heard a low rumble echoing up the valley between the hills. The rumble was followed by a loud clap of thunder and the rain began to fall faster. The sky was now completely dark and the breeze had become a roaring wind. My wind chimes called wildly. More thunder followed, though I was not able to see any lightning from my valley porch.

I looked at my companion sitting still on the swing beside me. Her ears were at full attention, her nose into the wind, but then, as just quickly as it had all begun, it stopped. The valley grew suddenly still. The sky cleared, but we did not move. We remained where we were, sitting still on the front porch swing. It seemed that we had only just gotten there, but already the storm had passed.

As we sat, I realized that even though we were quiet, the valley was not. I could hear the creek running strong. It was filled from days of rain and stormy outbursts, though still ran well within in its banks. A fat carpenter bee buzzed by the swing. Two others spiraled around each other in the bright sunshine that now bathed the valley in glittering light. Birds called from the hillside. I smiled. I had thought that the storm was loud, but no. I was now surrounded by a symphony of sounds.

I turned on my phone’s bird call identification app and began to eavesdrop on my feathered hillside neighbors. I could easily pick out the loud churr of a red-bellied woodpecker just the other side of the rock wall. I see this red-headed, black-and-white winged fellow often. Perhaps he was calling for his mate after the storm.

I imagined the bright yellow of an American goldfinch chirping high on the hill. I love this time of year when the male’s bold color matches the dandelions growing in our fields.

Then, the high pitched and rapid tweet-tweet-tweet, chirp, chip, chirp of the song sparrow seemed to be everywhere. These small taupe-colored birds make up for their comely looks with their energetic song.

I enjoyed the avian chorus and was pleased to hear it perfectly backed by the occasional deep tone that rang from the tubes of my long wind chime. A gentle breeze blew not only the chime’s clapper, but rustled the leaves on the valley’s greening trees. Water droplets fell from their leaves almost like rain. I stretched out on the swing. Our dog made room so I could use her belly as a pillow. I closed my eyes. 

My furry pillow sighed, and both dog and I were soon sound asleep. I couldn’t have imagined a more perfect lullaby.

Christine Tailer is an attorney and former city dweller who moved several years ago, with her husband, Greg, to an off-grid farm in Ohio south-central Ohio. Visit them on the web at straightcreekvalleyfarm.com.