Location: Glendrick Roost AS, Aberfoyle, UK
Weather: the storm cometh
Changed our routine today. The storm cometh. Flooding had already begun near the riverbanks. The air buzzed with urgency. Items stowed in the pole-barn above the waterline. Goats, and Zorro the sheep, moved into the donkey barn. Gypsy, Kandy, and Jet into the goat barn. Preemptively turning on all the electric blankets in our quarters in case of a blackout. Battening down the hatches. The storm cometh.
I felt torn about missing boardgame night at the village hall. But one look out my window— at the damp twilight, the trees bowing and tossing their hair— and one earful of the whistle slipping through the window-crack— a whistle building to a wail that made my little wooden hut shake and creak—
and I happily went the way of the hermit crab.
The storm’s here.
