How I Was Raised To Thrive With Inconvenience by Living on the Edge of the World

I look across the inlet as the salty wind braids my hair into knots. The waves have started to emerge. Trees huddle in the forest. My heart goes out to the lonely green sailboat anchored nearby. I hear the excited banter of the locals; she has arrived. I don’t mind if the power goes out. I’ve always welcomed darkness at this time of year. The company of a candle in such weather is as significant as a lighthouse for a sailor. The icy rain stings my face. The birds build up their nests like frantic craftsmen. I can no longer see the outline of Sleeping Beauty — she is hiding in a cocoon of heavy clouds. Snow covers her body like a crystalline blanket over every crevice and peak of the mountain range. It feels as though the island is holding its breath, waiting in anticipation. <img alt="" src="https://miro.medium.com/v2/resize:fit:700/0*rxb6kpKivJliOzEL" style="height:467px; width:700px" /> Photo by <a href="https://unsplash.com/@heytowner?utm_source=medium&utm_medium=referral" rel="noopener ugc nofollow" target="_blank">JOHN TOWNER</a> on <a href="https://unsplash.com/?utm_source=medium&utm_medium=referral" rel="noopener ugc nofollow" target="_blank">Unsplash</a> How can it be that a simple change of weather brings such tranquility? Isn’t it strange to feel peaceful when a storm blows? Is it just me, or do they excite all that live here? Do some fear them? Avoid them? Do some fall in love with them every time they appear, as I do? <a href="https://medium.com/@elindieme/storm-37d6a2a0c4a6">Read More</a>