In the last few years I’ve trained myself to snatch small windows of quiet.

I need to recharge my batteries at least a couple times a day, and have learned to make the most of the moments I have instead of waiting for the hours I don’t.
So tonight, with 10 minutes between my regular work day and teaching a night class, I pulled up to a lakeside car park with every intention of savoring a few pages of Annie Proulx. 

But as I turned off the engine, the clouds caught my eye. I watched two storm fronts collide and the heavens pour forth, the light fading to a dirty yellow as the horizon smudged with rain. 

I sometimes forget my own corner of the prairie can be as enchanting and wild as the ones in novels, if only I stop to look. 


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