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At Home With Books: A Dark and Stormy Night

By Deva Curnutte 8 Comments

A Dark and Stormy Night
The lightning flash fully illuminates the sky for a second before I hear the deep crack of thunder. It’s low and lingering, rattling the windows in the living room. The couch seems to vibrate beneath me, where I sit, having just begun to read A Wrinkle In Time. I pause, a finger marking my page, and listen. My son fell asleep not too long ago, and I hope the sound didn’t wake him.

I think back to the afternoon. Today was hot and sticky, the air heavy with anticipation – like it was going to storm. We couldn’t step outside without sweat beading on the back of our necks, when walking to the pool in the middle of the afternoon. I was reminded how heavy air can feel when the humidity is ever-so-slowly climbing. The air felt volatile even with the blue sky above the pool, with water warm enough to be an evening bath.

“I think it might storm tonight,” I said to nobody in particular, as my son splashed with his dive ring on the stairs beside me.

“Thunder, mama? I don’t like thunder.” He was solemn as the dive ring fell to the step at my feet with a plop.

“I know, buddy. Maybe it won’t.” But he’d stopped listening.

“I want to jump to you!” he bellowed, before getting off the stairs to stand on the pool’s edge.

Then he leapt into my arms with a splash, covering me with water. Laughing, I lifted him above my head. His eyes matched the cerulean sky, and not a cloud was in sight. As much as I wanted to hope it wouldn’t rain, I also longed for a good storm by which to read a favorite.

When we got home from the pool, gray clouds started to roll in, obscuring the sun’s cheer. My phone’s weather apps chirped and told me we would expect storms late—right after my son’s bedtime. His eyes drooped as we ate pizza. Thunderstorms scare him, and I didn’t want him to miss out on sleep because of storm noise. I kept checking the radar as he pulled on pajamas, and after I helped him brush his teeth.

As he chose his bedtime books, I couldn’t help but notice his choices mirrored some of his favorites from last summer and set the soundtrack for almost all we did then. I recall doing this as a child, and as he chose his books, I thought about what I wanted to read later when the storms rolled in and filled the air with electricity.

“Mama!” He crawled into my lap holding a pink-and-orange covered book. “Let’s Read Chicka Chicka BOOM BOOM!” His enthusiasm was contagious. This is one of our favorites for hot days, when the humidity lingers like perfume.

We read it together; he read the letters and sang out the BOOMS and we both giggled as the letters tumbled down the tree skit skat skoodle doot. I love the rhythm and rhyme of this picture book and how it perfectly illustrates the adventures and antics of small children on hot summer days. I can picture my son getting into pickles like the little letters climbing the coconut tree, and wonder what sort of feats he’ll manage as he grows.

As soon as we finished his book, he fell asleep and I settled in to read. The first line of A Wrinkle in Time is simply “It was a dark and stormy night.” I find myself sympathizing with Meg Murry as her house is shaken and rocked by hurricane winds, and I hear the wind howling and the rain clattering as she tip-toes down to find her brother and hot cocoa.

The rain starts falling as I open the novel, and lightning strikes as Meg finds hot milk on the stove. Madeleine L’Engle sets quite the stormy scene and I wrap myself in the imagery as though it were a blanket. When Meg’s brother Charles starts to talk about Mrs. Whatsit, I can’t help but wonder how I would react if my son or one of my siblings began to talk about someone like her, in such matter-of-fact terms.

I’m drawn deeper into the book as the Murry children set off on their adventure, one involving a tesseract and their father. I remember reading this novel when I was a young teen, and listening to the summer storms we had in my hometown. There, the thunder reverberated and roiled off hills, echoing all around with each flash of lightning. Often, the sky would be fully illuminated by the flickers, but the tendrils of energy were nowhere to be seen—hidden by lush, green hills.

Here, as I look out the window, I can see the sky go on without interruption, but rolling thunder is rare. There are no hills in my corner of Texas for the rumbles to echo off. We get long, metallic clacks that took time for me to get used to when we moved here three years ago. I see lightning cross the sky haphazardly, lighting up my whole yard before I hear their thunder claps.

It’s both familiar and yet not quite. The sound is one I find comforting, even though it’s not exactly the same as what I grew up with, and it’s easy for me to find myself lost in a book as rain pours down pitter-pat on the rooftop.

I’m halfway through my book when I’m called from my reverie by the sound of silence. The hiss of the baby monitor beside me and hum of the refrigerator are all I can hear. I peek out the window and on the horizon I can see the distant flicker of light. The storm has moved on. My clock says it’s near midnight, and my eyes are scratchy with sleep.

As much as I don’t want to put the book down, I need rest. Tomorrow I’ll finish the novel. But for now, I’ll go to bed and dream of tesseracts, thunderstorms, and hot summer days.

Photo by Mark Gunn, Creative Commons license via Flickr. Post by Deva Curnutte.

A life of books. A life of soul. Karen Swallow Prior poignantly and humorously weaves the two, until it’s hard to tell one life from the other. Booked draws on classics like Great Expectations, delights such as Charlotte’s Web, the poetry of Hopkins and Donne, and more.

This thoughtful, straight-up memoir will be pure pleasure for book-lovers, teachers, and anyone who has struggled to find a way to articulate the inexpressible through a love of story.

READ BOOKED NOW

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Deva Curnutte
Deva Curnutte
Deva Curnutte loves coffee and the hum of a flywheel during spin class. Once, on a whim, she signed up for and ran a half marathon. Her favorite color is blue and her favorite book is Weetzie Bat, which she's read more times than she can count. You can find her at her blog, Everything in the Middle.
Deva Curnutte
Latest posts by Deva Curnutte (see all)
  • At Home with Books: Slime, Snails, Puppy Dog Tails (and Charlotte’s Web) - July 9, 2020
  • At Home With Books: A Dark and Stormy Night - August 1, 2019
  • At Home With Books: Texas Little House - January 24, 2019

Filed Under: At Home with Books, Blog, Books, Children's Stories

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About Deva Curnutte

Deva Curnutte loves coffee and the hum of a flywheel during spin class. Once, on a whim, she signed up for and ran a half marathon. Her favorite color is blue and her favorite book is Weetzie Bat, which she's read more times than she can count. You can find her at her blog, Everything in the Middle.

Comments

  1. L.L. Barkat says

    August 1, 2019 at 12:26 pm

    So, I’m pretty sure if you could bottle this (reproducing the book’s setting while a person reads the book), you might have a good business on your hands. 😉

    Fun read, Deva. I was right there with you. (And we loved Chicka Chicka, too. 🙂 )

    Reply
    • Deva says

      August 1, 2019 at 5:13 pm

      Chicka Chicka is a wonderful book.

      I’d love to bottle this and sell it, especially for books written about the beach

      Reply
  2. Katie says

    August 1, 2019 at 4:47 pm

    Deva,

    “As much as I wanted to hope it wouldn’t rain, I also longed for a good storm by which to read a favorite.”

    I so related to this statement and your delightful post.

    As a young girl growing up in SE North Carolina, I recall the smell of rain and the sound of it splatting on the louvered aluminum windows as I ran to crank them in against an afternoon thunder storm. Also, how happy I would be that then I could settle in with a good book until suppertime, instead of having to go water and weed in the vegetable garden.

    Thank you for your writing which allowed me to relive this memory. 🙂

    Gratefully,
    Katie

    Reply
    • Deva says

      August 1, 2019 at 5:12 pm

      I adore the smell of rain. I love how it sounds on the roof, how it smells in the air as it approaches, and I love that you shared this memory with us!

      Reply
  3. Katie says

    August 1, 2019 at 5:06 pm

    Also, want to share this poem by Rudyard Kipling that is at the top of August’s page on my Farmer’s Almanac Calendar:

    And when your back stops aching and
    your hands begin to harden,
    You will find yourself a partner in
    the Glory of the Garden.

    “The Glory of the Garden”, by Rudyard Kipling,
    English writer (1865-1936)

    Reply
  4. LW Willingham says

    August 1, 2019 at 7:08 pm

    Flip flop flee. 🙂

    Love the sounds in this piece. They come through clearly enough that I could swear I feel the electricity of the lightning, the thick air of the coming storm.

    Reply
  5. Kimberly Knowle says

    August 2, 2019 at 1:30 pm

    I too love this line: “I also longed for a good storm by which to read a favorite.” We’ve had a few cloudy days this last week and they call to me to read and write, or grab the kids and books and read on the couch. Thanks for such beautiful imagery!

    Reply
  6. Sandra Heska King says

    August 2, 2019 at 3:57 pm

    I love Chicka Chicka Boom Boom. And storms.

    Another storm book I love is Patricia Polacco’s Thundercake. I’d prefer to curl up with a book rather than bake a cake during a storm. 🙂

    Reply

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