Lightning flashes, a relentless beacon dancing to thunder. Our screen door thwacks shut—it opened itself, boosted by a mere 20 mph gust of wind. My husband has fortified our 2-1/2-year-old Andersen door’s steel closer bracket four times. This time he removed the door closer and locked the door; he will find a new solution, but not a drastic one. We like the door.
Monday night our anemometer recorded a gust of 44.1. Wind chases dust, doors, and rain; it bows 7-foot-high sunflowers and cornstalks. Thankfully, wind changes direction here with fair constancy, and restores sunflowers and corn to their vertical stature.
The Big Cougar fire is well under control, 80% contained. The Johnson Bar fire, halfway between Lewiston and Missoula, is nowhere near us. The smoke is gone; only storm clouds now shroud the basalt hills.
It’s been kind of a day: pleasant–even if it now seems long– salted with wearying tasks, and brightened with fruitful errands. I love falling asleep to thunder.