A grey day weighs heavily, on this early morning, in North Vancouver. At least ten shades of grey clouds hover over Burrard inlet and Vancouver’s downtown core.
Dark monuments of man reach for the ever darkening clouds of nature. Like two opposing lines of inevitable force, waiting to clash. Jutting, hard.
Rain is building in those clouds, waiting to pound the works of man. Slowly, over time, breaking down his cement edifices with wear and tear; Shock and awe!
What is it that nature does, before the rains pour forth? An inevitability hovers in the air. A tension builds. An uncertainty and lack of ease pall the faces of the army of man.
When? When! When is the assault to begin?!
Ahh! A siren pierces the heavy stillness, wailing its frenzied lament of another victim. It's the fear and waiting! It breaks them down, and they simply die of fright!
The tension rises another notch. Burrard inlet is a haunting grey, still as a watery grave. Unusual! Something is coming! I feel it in my very bones.
I broke my hand many years ago, while taking pictures in a river gorge. I slipped on an algae covered stone face, while arrogantly leaping onto it. Now, as if something smashed has a second sense for coming battles, it aches like the beat of a war drum.
Even the Ravens seek protection in the branches of their coastal woods. The Seagulls usual complaining bleat is quiet. No wind is felt. Nothing moves, now.
Waiting. Damnable, waiting!
The tensions that precede the thunderstorms of the prairies are not like this slow buildup here. There is a sneaky quality. An ignoble hidden something lurking about, ready to steal your expectations and the needed release. In the prairies, you see it coming. You can gauge it. You ready yourself for the onslaughts, gird your loins, steel yourself for the occupation. Feel the release. Here, you watch, and temper your response. Hold fast.
Wait. Too soon! Not yet!
Eyes flit back and forth over the horizon. You, watch the buildup of the clouds forces on the mountains; darkening more and more of the sky. You look further out to the sea, beyond where you can imagine. It is darker still.
Wait. It is coming! Wait!
The sea, the sky and the mountains. These are nature’s grueling forces that mold your fate here. They are merciless powerful Generals whom are just as likely to argue amongst themselves, rattling their sabers, as to combine their indomitable armies against mans puny battlements.
Wait. Save your strength. Wait!
Just as likely you could wait for days like this. Knowing the inevitability of the struggle is certainly coming. Always, you are tricked! It will be within the hour, or towards the end of the day, you tell yourself with hesitation. Your eyes scan for a horizon, gone now, blended with the mutable grey of the sea. No certainty, only restlessness.
They are making ready. A shiver runs through me. Wait!
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