The weather had been warm and sunny and the storm came upon us with little warning.
The first thunderstorm of the year rolled in darkly and its booming echoes tossed and bounced along the length of our valley.
In its wake the cleansing rains of spring followed, leaving the air pungent with pine and fir mingled with the warm scent of damp pavement.
Last evening, after the thunder passed, there remained an air of expectancy...
Our Calgary Flames were preparing to play their fifth game in the quarter-final series of the Stanley Cup.
The television drew eager eyes as our home team outscored the Anaheim Mighty Ducks once more!
Then I awoke this morning, our win fresh in my mind, to the frantic honking of a motorist's horn as it raised the sleepy souls of our wee town.
We peered out the front window to be greeted by the sight of giant flames leaping and dancing along the hill through the trees.
With our mouths agape, we stared, transfixed, as we watched what appeared to be imminent danger upon our doorstep.
As it turns out, it was a scheduled practice burn of an old farmhouse by our local volunteer fire department.
Now I can return with relief to our chant of...
...Go Flames Go!
