A few nights ago I slept little, as a thunderstorm rolled through the area and was sending down bolts all over the mountaintop. Two bolts whacked trees just on the other side of the field, crackling through the air most impressively. I was convinced of course that my cabin would be next. As I’ve said before, the cabin has been hit in the past, and I always worry that the next bolt will do some real damage. The perils of living on the mountaintop.
“Who has never eaten his bread in sorrow,
Who has never spent his hours
Watching and waiting for the morrow,
He knows ye not, ye heavenly powers.” – Goethe