The anticipated storm passed with barely a nod in our direction.

A bit of rain to mark its existence, and then on to other places.

The Lanier bridge, which had been closed due to its elevation and expected winds, opened late this afternoon. Patio furniture, squirreled away for safekeeping, was brought out to front porches across town in time for an evening cocktail. Lawnmowers buzzed to life in the waning light as boats rocked gently in the harbor, gulls circling overhead.

It is moments like this that I am reminded of where I am.

Moments like this that I realize I am no longer in the man made world of the big city; nature an occasional visitor who paints the sky with lightening but lacks any real follow through.

It is moments like this that I see the dance between man and nature. See the negotiations. The ebb and flow of power and control. Brute strength versus wisdom handed down.

The alliance.

The concessions.

The space left between two forces.

It is moments like this, when the smell of salt air mixes with fresh cut grass that I am filled with reverence.

It is moments like this I realize that despite the risk and potential danger, I want to learn this dance.

It is moments like this I realize there is no place I would rather be.