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Back to the future

A July day.
Hot and still, with the lake and air of one cloth.
The clouds in the northwest grew and darkened, but still the stray dog that had claimed us lay stretched out on the bank of dark green ivy.
Faintly, in the distance, the sound of a train.
The dogs’ head came up. She looked to the northwest and then stood, went low to the ground, and ran!
The train sound was getting louder, and we don’t have trains near. We grabbed the old pathetic black cat and dashed after the black and white Tom down the cellar steps!
Straight out of the northwest a wind that bent, then broke tall hickory, maples, and beech randomly. The wind a giant, solitary, and strong; pounded things in its path before the rain that followed it like minor demons. The Tom, under the bed, wisely was silent. The old black cat yowled her protest. As the wind left and it was only raining , we went out on the back porch to find it was cold.
The light flickered and went out with the storm. We, being country people and used to this, got out the camp stove, oil lamps, and candles. Water we had stored in the basement and if we were careful with the flushing of the toilet, we could do without outside help for about a week. If we didn’t open the refrigerator doors, the things in there would keep for about the same amount of time.
A complicating factor was that my wife’s 93 year old cousin had come to visit, and the stairs were dark, and an open flame needs a steady hand.
In the evening we sat on the front porch and watched the setting sun paint golden light on first one set of branches, and then another. Bright color and blue shade formed a picture that seemed stark and forceful. The song of the song sparrow gave way to that of the wood thrush, and then to the “crek-crek” of a nation of night insects.
After two days of this, we rejoiced when, at dusk, we had light and became part of civilization again.