With another fall semester about to start for me, I took a little “personal retreat” time at the Log Home yesterday. Of all Stevenson Ridge’s cabins, the Log Home has perhaps the most epic front porch for passing the time. It’s a great spot for woolgathering with a cold beer or a glass of wine. In the mornings, it’s the perfect setting for that first cup or two of coffee.
We’ve had sweltering days this week, which finally gave way to a storm-filled evening yesterday. From my perch on the front porch, I watched the first storm lumber in from the west. It moved slowly. On the far side of the pond, near the Spy Hill House and Servants Quarters, the rain fell in gray curtains, but nearly ten minutes passed before the clouds stretched out enough for the rain to fall on the pond and then, eventually, to its near side and on the Log Home. All the while, I watched its slow progress and marveled. I literally sat on the edge of the storm.
Night fell, and with it, the view faded into darkness. Flashes of lightning lit up the rainfall like a thousand nocturnal sparkles, there for an instant and gone except for the ongoing sound of their fall. Rain against the roof. Rain through the trees. Rain on the pond.
It was a lovely way to pass the time.