Have I felt strong wind gusts?

Annis Canada: Severe Thunderstorms Watch

Michael reading Wings of Fire by Tui T. Sutherland
while he waits for the strorm to develop.

I heard a ping, the sound activity on AccuWeather -- one of my phone apps.

I looked at the screen: Warning -- conditions are favorable for the development of severe thunderstorms that may be capable of producing strong wind gusts, large hail and heavy rain.

At the same time there is a knock at my door.

I know it is one of the three little children from the cabin next door. They live in my pandemic bubble.

I try to stay socially isolated from the rest of the world -- in my room here, except for those in my bubble, and three of the six will be wanting entry this morning. Other cousins have left and they are alone. I don’t generally have them in the room.

Alice trying out Grandmother's bed and 
wondering about the idea of reading

Especially in the early morning time when I can do my best thinking. But today is different.

 I let Michael in first, telling him that I am typing but that if he wants to lay quietly on my bed and read, that will be fine.

 It is only a few minutes until Alice comes.

It is harder for her to lay still, so I shared with her the morning forecast, of which she wants to know what “strong wind gusts” might mean.

"Have I felt strong wind gusts?" she asks

If Alice curls up, so does Betty.
... monkey see, monkey do ...
the rhyme we are learning together
from Sally Goes Round the Sun

She doesn’t think so, though I know I have called her to the porch on other great storm days.

She also wants to know what is the difference between heavy rain and large hail.

Sometimes I have to put my hand under the falling water to tell the difference myself. There is that moment between hard rain, soft slush and heavy hail where I am uncertain too.

That is why my door to the deck is open. I have decided I will enjoy the 3 hours of severe wind, rain and hail that Accuweather has alerted me to.

I can hear the heavy rain already, – on the deck, on the boughs of the trees, pinging off of the round table on which I might eat breakfast on a clearer day.

I hear the sound of the crows calling to each other, so it is better that I keep my door open and pay attention to that gift of water from the heavens and all the sounds that it brings.

... the rain drops wash the patio table to a new level of clean ...

The heavy cloud that hung over Bastion Mountain, half-hung, has dissipated into a fine white midst, through which I can still see the mountain, but only barely.

Like through a glass darkly.

I change out of my morning’s summer clothes into a heavy denim jacket and heavy thread-count jeans.

I need to be warm to enjoy the gift of a storm through an open door.

Arta