Penny Touchman
I thought I’d start the week by sharing a gift from a friend. She’s a master gardener living in the mountains east of San Diego. Periodically she sends me photos of her ever spreading Empire of the Plants. This is from a couple years ago. It’s early morning and a heavy dew refreshes the land. The air smells of wet earth, pine, and juniper. Thank you Penny.
What made me think of Penny’s photo was last night’s thunderstorm. It was one hell of a light show. Waking up early this morning, looking out the window to see a grey, wet cityscape triggered my memory of Penny’s photo.
I’m not certain when the first thunderstorm first arrived. I was on my computer learning Blender, a 3D arts program. My old brain was wheezing along and I was oblivious to the world outside, for a while. The intensity of the lightening and thunder wouldn’t be ignored. I finally turned off the computer and went to bed. I just wanted to lay there and savor the elements. It was so intense that when I tried to go to sleep, I couldn’t. Eventually, I went downstairs and sat at the dinning room table with a glass of milk, only illuminated by continuous electrical arcing in the sky. The thunder never subsided.
The storms came one after the other. As one faded away in the east, another approached from the west. The sky was alight from horizon to horizon. The storms fought for attention using their thunder, one cannonade answered by another. The windows trembled at the power.
In the middle of all this, I thought about my grandmother, she preferred to be called Mother Grayce, and a favorite song of hers, Ghost Riders In The Sky. This is the Marty Robbins version. Here are the lyrics;
An old cowpoke went ridin’ out one dark and windy day
Upon a ridge he rested as he rode along his way
When all at once a mighty herd of red eyed cows he saw
Plowing through the ragged skies and up a cloudy draw
Yipie I ay, yipie I oh
Ghost turned in the sky
Their horns were black and shiny and their hooks are made of steel
Their brands were still on fire and their hot breath he could feel
A bolt of fear shot through him as they thundered through the sky
He saw the riders coming hard and he heard their mournful cry
Yipie I ay, yipie I oh
Ghost riders in the sky
Their face is gaunt their eyes were blurred their shirts all soaked with sweat
They’re ridin’ hard to catch that herd but they ain’t caught ’em yet
‘Cause they’ve got to ride forever on the range up in the sky
On horses snorting fire as they ride on hear them cry
Yipie I ay, yipie I oh
Ghost riders in the sky
As the riders looked on by him he heard one call his name
If you want to save your soul from hell a riding on our range
Then cow-boy change your ways today or with us you will ride
Tryin’ to catch the Devils herd, across these endless skies
Yipie I ay, yipie I oh
Ghost riders in the sky
Yipie I ay, yipie I oh
Ghost riders in the sky
This morning I looked for hoof marks in the backyard, siding and roof. I didn’t hear anyone call my name. Se Nada.
But the storm did deliver 5.5″ of rain, winds that peaked at 72 mph, and hail ranging in size from peas to softballs. The sound of each icy pellet’s whack echoed through the house. Impressive.
It’s odd what triggers a memory. Odder, what memory is conjured up.