In Which Poseidon Makes Himself Known

Last night I gasped awake, shaken by a soul-shattering crack of thunder and accompanying raindrops hell bent on breaking through the skylight above my bed. The storm raged and whirled as I cowered in my lofted nest of blankets, convinced the Greek Gods had decided to make a reappearance to say it loud, say it proud. It was violent to the point I was uttering reassurances to myself such as "this building has survived 400 years and there's no reason it shouldn't keep on surviving... there must be storms like this all the time! No big deal! holycrapgonnadie no no Hannah, you're fine." After reverting to the childhood remedy of a nightlight and hiding under a pillow, I was finally able to drift off once the storm had gotten through its worst.

I wandered dazed into the Lab this morning, preparing myself for a day's work after a somewhat sleepless night. John came stumbling in soon after, his eyes smeared and bleary and his complexion pale. I had forgotten his exposure to the elements was greater than mine - his superior views and larger space, so wonderful on beautiful days, resulted in screaming winds and banging shutters with a pervading chill his small room heater was unable to contend with. On the longest and darkest night of the year, John battled with the elements to latch his shutters closed in the wee hours of the morning, stepping out onto a roaring balcony and taking in the surreal 3am sight of angry waters flooding walkways below, fighting against the permanence of the lighthouse, and reaching raging sodden fingers up towards his ankles in a surreal attempt to drag him down in their swirling depths. He eventually shut, locked and barricaded himself against the storms outside, finding sleep for only a few hours as pale daylight crept into his room.

By the time we forced ourselves up this morning the torrential rains and electric accompaniments had stopped. The wind, however, pervades. In the light of day, the weather outside is more of an incredible phenomenon than a midnight phantasm, and watching the usually placid harbor waters roil from the safety of our windows is quite the sight to behold. And so, for your viewing pleasure: