Dark, menacing clouds rolled in over the village yesterday evening. They slowly swirled, layer upon layer, with light feathery edges at the periphery. Like colorless molten lava they folded in upon themselves, only to re-emerge later in different shapes. Lightning flashed in the distance and a few drops of rain fell.
Gradually the sky turned a uniform, gun-metal gray. The menace had turned into a more familiar dull presence. Rain fell steadily and rumbling thunder pierced the silence. In short order a few bright streaks of jagged electricity rent the heavens.
It never amounted to much more than that, however. By this morning all that is left is a gray, overcast sky, and a good excuse to stay home and read a good book.
You can read our latest newsletter here. It's about Ocracoke Islanders and "tokens of death."