Thunder echoed through the hollow, rattling the loose window pane in the cabin door. The afternoon’s thunderstorm had grown into a wailing, angry force, and with the darkness, it seemed to be trying to fight its way inside the cabin. Rain pounded the roof, wind howled and whipped the walls and windows. Lightning bolts streaked across the night sky, leaving eerie periods of illumination.
Inside the cabin, most of the children and adults slept through the ruckus. Some of us, however, could not. Thunder storms bouncing around the mountains could scare an avid storm-chaser, but this one seemed more intense than any before. It roared overhead and burst from the hollow as though chased by unseen demons.
We could hear the water of the small creek, which had gently flowed between its banks during 
the earlier part of the day, change to something from a movie about whitewater rafting. Huge crashes, one after another, sounded like dynamite exploding, first up the hollow a ways, then closer, in front of the cabin in which we sat listening, shivering, wondering if the building would blow apart any second.
After the long night of sleepless terrors, the morning showed the incredible power of the storm. The sun had returned, but the torrential rains had swollen the creek, swirling waters pounded the banks, seeking an outlet to the tension from the night before. The ground felt swampy beneath our feet.
What astounded us most was the layout of the creek itself. It did not resemble that of 
yesterday, nor of the years I’d spent wading its waters. During the night, what we mistook for thunder was huge boulders tossed by rising waters. Rocks, as large as monster truck tires, had been tossed like leaves across the water and deposited in another section of the creek hundreds of feet downstream. The power necessary to uproot these boulders from where they’d sat for who knows how long and tumble them like children’s building blocks to a new resting place, seemed unimaginable. We’d heard it, we saw the aftermath, but we couldn’t take it in.
That storm made us more aware of our human frailty and God’s power. He created the earth with a word, causes the storms to rumble, commands the sun and moon to rise and set. His power can toss a boulder, crumble it to bits, yet He created us, frail human beings who need His help to breathe and live each day. And He does so because He loves us. Wow …
*** Do you have a memory about a creek you’d like to share with us? Please do! Click on the words beside the date of this post. Scroll down to the box with the heading, “Leave a reply.” Thank you for sharing!
*** Next week, a post written while vacationing this weekend at this wonderful place!
legaciesletloose 
Hi Cathy,
I know you may not see this for a few days but it will be waiting for you when you get back! I could just picture your experience hearing the swollen creek rushing and the big booms of the boulders and how terrifying that would have been! The only creek memory that came to me as I read your blog was the creek that ran through our apartment complex where we lived for 12 years. The name of the complex? Creekside! Very fitting. We lived in two different apartments during our time there. The first one was right by the creek,which could be seen from our bedroom windows. Our second apartment was away from the creek and had a view of an open field instead, which was nice too. But whether we had a view of the creek or not it was always nearby and an easy walk-to. Now, it never became a raging rushing white-water creek like yours did with scary boulders, but there were definitely times it swelled and ran fuller and faster, making its presence known! I sorta miss our little creek since we moved from there a year ago even though I love our new house. There’s something about flowing water that is peaceful (well except for the one in your story that was loud and terrifying, lol). Seems I’ve lived near water most everywhere I’ve lived. Another apartment complex was called Lakeside and it had several small lakes in and around it. Another complex was called Bercado on the River. There was a big pond in the complex and our town’s river ran on the edge of the property. Our new house doesn’t have a creek or pond or river but it does have a retention ditch! Sounds lovely, doesn’t it? Well when it downpours, it looks like we own waterfront property, lol. I’m thankful the water is caught out there and doesn’t find it’s way into our house! We live about 45 miles from Lake Michigan and so have spent many hours by that lake in my lifetime. I do find a peace there. Or sometimes I park by our river and just read while listening to the water flow and watching the ducks, geese, heron’s and ospreys. My husband likes the water, but only if he can fish in it! Now all of this thinking on creeks and rivers and lakes makes me want to go somewhere today or one day soon and be soothed by the sound of the flowing water or the lapping waves. Thanks for the memories and the inspiration 🙂
–Leafy
LikeLiked by 1 person
Wow, you must love living near water, Leafy, with all those water-in-the-name homes! The creek on our home property almost dries up in the summer, but when the spring or autumn rains hit, it’s lovely to leave the doors wide open to listen to it. However, it also floods every few years, which is terrifying because it comes all the way up close to the driveway. It can’t get into the main part of the house, but it fills the basement and kills the furnace and water pump every time. Not fun! My husband would agree with yours – no water I worth much if ya can’t fish in it! LOL! Sorry it took so long to reply – internet troubles here right now. Thank you for always sharing your stories. I love them! Blessings!
LikeLike
What a Beautiful writing! I could just picture the whole scene as you described it up there at the cabin! Love all your subjects you write as about too!
My stream experience takes place where I grew up on the farm down in the valley in southern York county. It was during the rains of the tropical storm Agnes. The stream kept swelling up as each day of rain would continue! Our farmhouse was about 50 ft from the stream and we had a bridge which separated us from the lane to get out to civilization. There was a man made lake in which this stream had a pipe to fill and the rest flowed past and continued kn it’s way, except for when too much rain overflowed it’s banks and flowed into the lake and over the dam! Dad was worried the dam would break as a hole was being dug out on the other side where the water flowed over. So, he alerted the neighbors down steam just in case! We prayed as a family that all would be ok, and God answered our prayers in perfect timing! The rains stopped and waters went down and what a mess we had to clean up afterwards! I remember my sisters and I walking up through the giant dug out clay caverns which were created upstream in the pasture and had so much fun! So despite the work cleaning up we had some fun too! Since the railroads were all flooded out and never used again, someone had an idea to convert the rails to biking/walking trails, so that was a positive which came out of a negative! Like the rainbow after Noah’s ark, Gods promise!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I remember the floods of Agnes well, Lise. We didn’t get water in the house with where it’s located, but we did get flooded in on all sides. With Silver Lake at one end of the road, a pond toward the other end, and the Yellow Breeches River and Susquehanna River, yeah, it was water everywhere. I remember my Uncle Alan’s house after the flood, filled with six inches of mud, the furniture (including an antique player piano) dripping with mud and debris. So much lost! Glad you got to have some fun out of it! Where are these rail-trails? We’d probably love to go walk them! We love the ones along Pine Creek in Tioga County! Thank you for sharing. It means so much to me, plus I enjoy reading others’ stories. Blessings!
LikeLike