Thunder not bombs

Got caught in a downpour while walking through our local woods yesterday. Wet dog, rolling thunder and warm rain. It was great!  Obviously, I couldn’t take a picture and my words will never do it justice. Let’s just say it was a sensory experience … something to inhale and to savour like fresh bread. The dog, usually terrified of thunder, seemed braver while in the shelter of the gloomy, wet woods. Nevertheless, we didn’t dawdle to smell all those woodsy smells and he very much appreciated the towel rub when we returned home. 

I think of the wars happening on our beautiful earth and how for some that thunder, those stabs of random light, are malicious, angry and filled with hate. When I see an image of another bombing set in our present world … I’m reminded of the past my parents and millions of others experienced. As  survivors of the Second World War pass on, it’s vital we pass on their memories to prevent more war. How did that Patti Smith song go? People have the Power?   A bit of the lyrics: The power to dream, to rule to wrestle the world from fools

Peace on the prairies

Or how about Simon and Garfunkel’s Last Night I had the Strangest Dream.  Taste of lyrics:  Last night  I had the strangest dream, I ever dreamed before. I dreamed the world had all agreed To put an end to war.        

• Why am I so lucky to live in Canada where thunder is only thunder?  In chapter 18 of my new novel, Waltraut, my characters experience a thunderstorm while picnicking in a cemetery. It's a déjà vu moment for Waltraut's mother ... a character inspired by my own mother's fear of stormy weather and of war.