For all of December, we’ve had unrelenting roaring winds and biting cold. Winds have been at least 20 MPH, and starting with the second week of December, it hasn’t gotten out of the 20s here. Most days it was in the teens; for a week straight, the temps weren’t even into the middle teens. Gusts are random shuddering thumps against the house, easily exceeding 70 MPH.
We’ve been stuck inside with the stove set as high as it can go, celebrating each single degree that the house rises above 60. Most days we’d be glad to see 64, a couple days it was calmer outside and we saw 66. Never thought I’d be so glad to see the house getting warm like that.
The last couple weeks, the winds have been calmer, to 30-40 MPH; and although it’s been warmer (thankfully) it’s still been that bone-chilling wet/cold that we get here.
The middle weeks of December were the worst. You would lie in bed, when the house was supposed to be quiet, but couldn’t converse in anything quieter than a regular voice, because of the wind noise. It would be like standing right on the ocean shore during a storm. And no way to walk away from it.
It’s tough to describe the oppression to your spirit that the constant roaring of the wind can create. It’s the symbol of being stuck in the house, while the heaviest of patio furniture skitters and dances all about the deck, noisily overturning and slamming into other pieces; eventually ending up either on one side or out in the meadow. The thumping and banging sounds like random play among giant dogs.
But finally, yesterday, we got a break. The temps have begun to get closer to mid-40s, and I actually saw some blue sky. The winds have moderated to just 10 MPH or so. It was almost like being able to breathe again. The house hit 71 degrees inside. The lift to the spirit was so tremendous that I started to grab the camera to run out to photograph it.
But it was gone before I could get out there.
At least we know that there’s still blue sky above all this gray.
Thank you Lord for reminding me.