Storm on the Prairie

Storm on the Prairie

June 13, 2017

It was the Trucker who first called attention to the blanket of dark clouds to the left and ahead of us. We were rolling east on Route 94 in Montana, the road a ribbon of asphalt flowing mile after straight mile across the green prairie. Two lanes east, two lanes west, split by the median. Small herds of black cattle with their young broke the expanse of land on either side of the road. Traffic was occasional.

For more than an hour the Trucker and I watched the storm clouds, moving toward them at 70 miles per hour, the truck rising and falling with the gentle swells and drops of the road. Clouds thickened and became darker, smothering the land. Curtains of water fell from them, visible against the lighter sky beneath. Lightning glimmered and sparked continuously within the mass. Randomly, a sharp blade of white hot light sliced through and stabbed toward earth.

Protruding southward, in front of the truck, lighter cotton candy-like clouds floated at a different level than the storm. Their edges were rimmed with brightness, reflecting the glow of the western sunset behind. Underneath them, a layer of gray moved steadily toward black.

Along the right side of the truck, to the south, skies were clear. Puffy clouds serenely hung in place against a light blue backdrop. A totally different world, the slash of road a dividing line between.

Another half hour, and the road curved, and swung back again. Another curve away, and we were at the very edge of the rain. Eastbound lanes were dry. The grass in the median was wet. The westbound traffic swished their wipers and sprayed water from their wheels as they passed. The nose of the storm was directly overhead. Another half hour, and the wind increased, shoving the truck sideways. The trucker tensed, his hands restraining the wheel. Clouds spit rain in huge drops, and hail clattered on the roof and hood of the cab. Five minutes, and we were through.

Immediately, the world became lighter, setting sun behind us notwithstanding. Released from the heavy, foreboding atmosphere, the truck rolled on. The demanding wind gave way to a gentle breeze which was a startling twenty degrees warmer than before. Light gradually yielded to the creeping darkness, deepening dusk merging earth and road and sky into one shade.

And on and on the ribbon flowed away into night, the truck rising and falling with the gentle swells and drops of the road.