After the storm

Melbourne had an intense day of weather yesterday. We even had a tornado-ish (tornadette?) to go with our extreme stormy conditions. Thunderbolts, lightning, lashing winds and rain ... it was like being inside a movie, and not a fun one at that.

My drive from my client site, usually an easy 20-minute run, to the school took over 45 knuckle-whitening minutes; I was slobberingly grateful to arrive unscathed, and to have not witnessed any catastrophes on the road. By the time the school bell went, the worst of the weather had passed over us in the west, and was headed for the city and the eastern suburbs.

After the storm, my 6 year old and I came home to a quiet, drenched yard, steaming gently in the late afternoon sun. She jumped in puddles, while I squeezed fluid from the sodden laundry on the line. The birds began to sing again, and the dog yawned hugely in the return of the warmth of the day.

The aftermath of a storm is always marked with calm and release, both literal and symbolic. So much storm und drang, to arrive, safe, if bruised, on the other side.

It brought to mind  my favourite, if one of the least generally popular, songs from Mumford and Sons' first album. After the Storm isn't as flashy or poppy as a lot of their other songs, but it speaks to me of the quiet that comes after stress and travail, the silence at the heart of the wind, and love struggling through pain to emerge, speaking its name, into the sunlight.

"And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears / And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears"...



This is post 6 in NaBloPoMo. 6 down, 24 to go!