By Simon Ambit
It started as a dull grumble way down deep in the back of the canyon’s throat. In the beginning it was something you had to stop and listen for to ensure that you’d actually heard it. But as the breeze swirled north from the bowels of East Mountain, the skies over the south end of the lake grew to a deep grey. As time rolled slowly by, the clouds that once coasted lightly overhead were now packed together in a vaulted traffic jam of cumulonimbus proportions.
The previous grumble had grown beyond a monstrous growl and was now a barrage of clapping thunder. It seemed to boom out Morse Code commands to the raindrops, which now fell in thick sheets around the entire valley surrounding the reservoir. The downpour caused the entire surface of the water to come to life, boiling and dancing about in a sort of harmonic rage.
Adults scurried about to tuck items into nooks and children ran for cover. It was an impressive sight to watch as the mountain rain storm rolled across the valley. The forces of God and nature are impressive and inspiring, they are uncontrolled by us mortals (though we try at times) and yet do us so very much good when we concede to follow their lead.
Just as abruptly as the storm had leapt over the mountain peaks to the south, it now slid through the saddle passes to the north as it rumbled on along and marched out of sight and ear shot. With the storm complete and the children out of hiding we set out in the canoe for an evening of fishing. The setting sun waved its daily goodbyes behind the silver curtains of the trailing clouds, this combined with the refreshing coat of water-based paint laid down upon the entire valley by the passing storm created a scene of majesty and serenity.
It was a great moment to be out there on the lake in such a setting as this, with three generations of fishermen enjoying themselves together. The canoe slid silently through the water and I was grateful for the chance to be out on the water with my boys and my dad; fishing, relaxing and watching a storm weathered sunset sink into the mountain pines. It doesn’t get much better than that in my book! Life is good, enjoy the passing storms.