Just Before Dark, Just After Dark

Just before dark, gusting winds forced the trees at the lake to bend down and touch their knees.  Plastic cups and napkins flew off with the feeding swallows.  The lake converted into a mass of whitecap waves.  A lone fishing boat Doppler-droned off down through the rough waters.

Though the inrush of chill air felt rather delicious brushing against our faces and arms, that girl and I gathered up our belongings and drove the short distance from the lakeshore to the house.  We arrived at the house just as oversized raindrops began to ting against the truck and the last of daylight melted into a wall of invading clouds.

Just after dark, lightning began to pulse within the clouds and bright bolts cracked down into the surrounding mountains.   That girl and I dragged two lawn chairs out onto the back deck and watched the light show amid the rumbling thunder.

At once, an over-bright bolt of lightning knifed into the mountain immediately across the lake from us.   Only a minute or two later, orange flames began dancing among some trees there.

I grabbed my phone and called 911 to report the fire.

Then came rain wholesale.

That girl and I moved back under the open arches at the back of the house as the dry landscape released the scent of wet stone and wet sage.  The rain continued.  The fire in the trees across the lake opened and closed, crawled a little, then died in the rain.

We sat in the rain until the lighting and thunder retreated back into the clouds again.    

--Mitchell Hegman