One of my favorite classic rock chestnuts is REO Speedwagon’s Ridin’ The Storm Out. When I hear it, I always think of the story of John Muir, who reportedly hiked up Mt. Dewey, the hill above Wrangell, a former home of mine, to climb a large spruce tree. He did that to get as high as he could in order to feel the full force of a storm occurring at the time.
Me, I’d rather ride out a storm like we did yesterday. A 40-knot gale swept through the region. Eight foot waves shot towers of sea spray high overhead. The trees danced, the wind generator roared as it furled and unfurled. Rain whipped the windows and walls. We got to watch it all from the cabin’s snug interior, with a warm fire, hot drinks, and the aroma of good cooking.
To make it all even better, we were smug.
On Monday, Michelle and I hiked out to vote absentee and take care of a few other errands. We’d learned a valuable lesson on Primary Election Day, when, the day after going to town on other errands, we returned the next day, through a storm, for the sole purpose of performing our civic duty. This time, we took advantage of a flat calm and light rain to make the trip to town, vote, and be done before the weather closed in.
I wanted to get carried away with enjoying the satisfaction. I seriously considered sitting around in my pajamas all day just to reinforce the fact that we’d taken care of voting when the time was right. I got dressed, after all. Smug or no, I still have to make it to the outhouse now and then, and it really is stormy out there!