Dark, Stormy Night

A early Nor'easter has descended upon us in a fury. Icy cold rain falls steadily, accompanied by a wind that whips and weaves its way through layers to settle deep within my bones. Snow and sleet have been reported in and around the area as temperatures continue to drop below normal. It's dark when I wake, and behind the heavy clouds the sun never seems to rise before we descend again into the damp darkness of evening.

The Arctic air seems to have pushed the trees into autumnal color and loosened leaves from their perches above to coat the sidewalks underfoot. The guilty pleasure of woodsmoke is caught on the air. The unseasonable chill sent me crawling into the recesses of the attic to unearth hats, scarves and gloves, all tucked away with the bloom of the first crocus last spring.

As night and rain fell on Thursday, Gus and I bundled up and made our way to an old warehouse among the wharfs at the southern edge of the city. There we saw Haunted Poe, an interactive production of the works of Edgar Allen Poe, put on by an avant garde theater company. The suspenseful recitations and spooky sets stirred the spirits of Halloween, and the Philadelphia we drove home through harkened back to the city of the Gothic poet himself -- wind howling down deserted, rain swept streets, choked gutters and inky shadows catching the yellowed lamppost light.

"A sombre yet beautiful and peaceful gloom here pervaded all things...the shade of the trees fell heavily upon the water, and seemed to bury itself therein, impregnating the depths of the element with darkness."

                                                  --Edgar Allen Poe, "The Island of the Fay"