The Guideposts editor-in-chief reflects on the colors of the summer season.
I love a good summer cloudburst, whether the thunder is rolling over the rocky hills of the Berkshires or crackling through the concrete canyons of Manhattan. I’m watching one right now in fact from my office window 21 floors above East 34th Street. It is eerily dark and the rain is hitting my window in big gobs and the Chrysler building 10 blocks north looks like a giant art deco lightning rod.
We all have different reactions to storms. My mother used to say a prayer when she heard a huge clap of thunder. Marty, my late Labrador retriever, a large and powerful dog, would cower shamelessly in a corner, inconsolable, until it was over. Sally Browne, our cocker, stood her ground bravely, barking back at the thunder as if she could somehow ward it off. At those moments I would have given virtually anything to know what she was thinking.
I think that in some strange way storms make me feel protected. There is no safer feeling than feeling safe in a storm. I suppose the same could be said about faith...you feel it most when you need it most.
Well, the cloudburst is over already, the bruised sky giving way to a setting sun. There is something dramatic about a clear sunset in the wake of a violent storm. I’m sure a physicist could explain why the colors seem richer. Or maybe it’s just the way I see them, vivid and reassuring.
Edward Grinnan is Editor-in-Chief and Vice President of GUIDEPOSTS Publications.