the texture of weather
[Boulder, CO]
i grew up on a sandbar. if you've spend more than 20 minutes with me in the last seven years or so you prolly feel this topic has been exhausted. bear with me. the wiseman built his house upon the rock. the fool who built his house upon the sand may have lost his home during Floyd and Irene and was flooded during Beryl but at least he had good surf, fresh fish, and a few close friends to help shop-vac the first floor.
the magic about a place like the Outer Banks is that the pace of life is 100% dictated by the weather. if the wind is west, we're going diving. nor-east? get ready for some crazy-messy surf and a boat load of humidity. blowing too strong northeast? the roads are flooded, stay home. i could go on but you get the idea.
the beauty of weather is it's ability to act upon present objects, events, characters and change them to suit its purpose. sunlight behind a cactus softens its spines transforming it into a thing of quietness and beauty. rain on cement creates a smooth, desirable surface, inviting bare toes and some admiration.