During a particular cold snowy day as we eyed through the frosty edged windows, the house quivered and shook from the blasts of cruel winds.
We are drawn to venture out into the powerful force, its grueling winds roaring through the forest of Spruce and Birch.
Thoroughly rural, not another dwelling or soul around, we are deeply struck by nature’s fury and power.
We stand there in solitude.
A sense of awe and uneasiness tightens its grip as the incredible pitching sounds of strong ripping winds bend trees and all in its way.
The relentless roar crescendos on whipping gusts and random waves of rips and currents.
We both feel very small.
The differences in the realities of what we see, hear, and experience in the rural outdoors and that of the city/urban/suburbia, are extremely stark.
The hustle & bustle, the sounds of traffic, industry, and dense humanity are in stunning high contrast with the other.
The experience described above is difficult to put into words.
However when it happens, it grips the soul…
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