Prompt: Describe the weather. Use all your senses.

I had to laugh when I read this. I spent about 5 minutes in the parking lot at the grocery store doing just that. I had just finished shopping and the atmosphere was something that needed to be caught, but I think it escaped my pen. I love the new gray of pre-dawn, how it meets the street like a wall meets a baseboard painted a few shades darker. Here and there trees break the connection, but even they seem gray-green in the early morning light.

It's one of those Oklahoma days that make you wonder if your life is going to be completely shredded by the time night falls. And if not yours, whos? And if we manage to escape a swirling mass of clouds and rain and wind, we will all wake tomorrow counting our blessings. I've felt days like this before. Many times, actually. More often than not we just get an interesting demonstration of weather. But the times that stand out in the memory are when homes and lives were lifted and leveled and scattered. It makes one think. And it makes me put a finger on exactly where my one-of-a-kind, irreplacable manuscript information is and have it packed and ready to flee to safety with me. I pause to wonder why I have yet to put copies on media to store in the safe deposit box--and will I procrastinate doing that until it's too late. Always the writer.

There's a hush. The birds are unusually quiet. You have to understand that these critters have been singing loudly enough to be heard indoors with all the doors and windows closed. This morning there's silence. It feels like there has been a collective inhale, and everyone is holding their breath to watch and wait and listen to hear if the wind will tell us its secrets. It hisses through the trees and gives a flag or two a good snap--like a wet towel in a locker room--but there is no message there.

This wind has been trying to brew something for the past two days. Day before yesterday the gusts were close to 50 mph--wind advisories had to be posted. You could feel the gusts move your car on the road. Yesterday was better, but the wind still blew, and today it's back up again though not quite as brutal as Sunday. Still, hang up the comb and brush. Unless your hair is so short that it can't blow, it will no longer be combed once you step outside of the house. Any dress with a full skirt has been wisely shelved.

The breeze is heavy with moisture and coolish when it touches the skin, or at least it was before the sun was up to warm it. Clouds clustered at the horizon rim all around, the only clear sky directly overhead. That all changed quickly and continues flow and change like a river in flood. The wind won't let the clouds rest--they're pushed northward at speeds that allow little time for them to shape-shift. The cloud layer is thick at times, then thins and allows a brilliant burst of sunshine that lights up the green in the trees and grass like neon. Most of the spring blossoms have been blown away, and sometimes they float on the breeze in scent form as well as confetti.

All in all the day seems pressing, a contrast of spring delight and silent foreboding.