Minnesota’s Mad Weather

In my home state of Minnesota, nestled on the sandbar of Bonnie beach there are fifteen-to-twenty cabins. My cabin, centered around the middle of the shore, was surrounded by assorted metal and wooden docks. Some had been unscathed by treacherous weather, while others had been beaten and sewn together like a zombie. My cabin, elderly and boxy, with a woodgrain reddish undertone and hollow, ghost like eyes of white window frames peered at the lake. The new renovated houses began to overtake the beach. Leaving only a few spare originals. From the time I could remember this had been the place of true happiness and warm summer nights and bonfires and s’mores and cold rainy fishing trips. Eccentric heat of bliss swam above the walls and through the rafters. These emotions had been accompanied by a pleasant, yet musty and familiar scent embedded in the foundations of memory. Guarding it from the outside, was the screen door. It acted as a lullaby on countless nights with its low and high whines that occurred when someone passed through. On the outside of the cabin, past the deck, tall oak trees stumbled on the edge of the flowing grass. White, purple and red flowers erupted from my mothers tan sun bleached flower pots. Railroad ties that protected the front of the cabin had been repurposed by my grandfather and were now cracked and worn from past winters and glacier-like ice sheets. The ancient sidewalk that led from the cabin to the sandy beach was deteriorating and overgrown by tough Minnesota grass. Afternoons in the summer months of June and July would bake the beach sand and make it impossible for the neighbor kids and I to scatter across with bare feet. In return we would leap into the fresh lake water with no hesitation. When the sun began to blaze in the dead of the day it warmed the surface of the lake. Soon enough the water became thick and stagnant with piles of algae. Us kids learned quickly, in order to escape the thick warm water you could hold your breath and sink to the bottom of the lake for a couple seconds. We were not the only ones who discovered this. Large creepy cat-like fish with whiskers and bone blade-like fins did the same. Occasionally we’d step on these lake monsters and they’d shoot away with fear and power, causing us to jump and screech. The heat of midday gave the lake an aroma of spoiled algae and the occasional rotten fleshy stench of boiling carp. These putrid carcasses would attract hungry scavenging raccoons that would result in fights with our family German Shepard. Even sometimes a rifle needed to be involved to prevent these from occurring.

One day as I recall, long summer days in the middle of July were nearly intolerable. Humidity hung in the air like a damp draped cloth. The day was ideal that morning, the soft breeze brushed the leaves, which created a calm whoosh in the background. The lake was clear and reflective of the blue sky and cotton candy clouds. Standing at the end of the dock, with each breath, the air would pull into my lungs, expanding them to their full capacity. It gave me a sense of freedom as I felt the power and electricity of the pre-storm oxygen brush through my hair and across my skin. Primal instinct and excitement bubbled up inside my chest. Until in a moment's time, the once pure clouds began to spoil with gray above my head. Behind me, on the shore, the behemoth trees with sturdy trunks were shaken by the vicious wind. The wind in my hair became more violent as it whipped around in tight circles. Leaves were ripped from the trees and as I ran to the shelter of the cabin, small branches broke loose and scattered across the lawn. The sky above began to turn black and became sick with a green tint. This green hue often caused panic between my family as it hinted to a much severe storm than a regular thunderstorm. The cloud cover contained the reverberation of thunder that rumbled through my lungs. Strikes of lightning appeared overhead of the lake  across the gray-green clouds. Levels of electricity began building, my mother, father, two older sisters and I decided to seek further shelter by escaping under the cabin. My father pulled up the hatch as we grabbed our belongings such as blankets, pillows, sweatshirts, coloring books, and the radio. It bleated, “Severe tornado warning for Big Kandiyohi County, seek shelter immediately away from windows and…” Static buzzed from the speakers. Our shelter for the next few hours consisted of a dirt floor, concrete roof, gas lines, sewer pipes and mouse traps. Once the sky reached its pinnacle, the rain intensified in a downpour, the humidity increased until it was suffocating to breathe. My breath became short and shallow. Causing a mechanical reaction of panic. My skin began to sweat without relief under layers of sweatshirts and sweatpants. My hair began to curl and progressed into a stringy texture. Bucket like-water droplets disturbed the surface of the lake and caused violet ripples under the clouds. The rain pelted our dock that was stationed in the water. This caused it to sound with a vibrating ring. Water collected in pools around the property and overflowed. Then ran off in streams to the low slew behind the cabin, across the gravel road. Waves crashed onto the beach with force. Strong currents poisoned the water black with slit and vibrant green mangled weeds. Electricity and power from the waves worked simultaneously with the wind in the trees. A minefield of sticks and branches littered the floor. Soon the symptoms of the storm began to subside. Until finally, the storm settled, we were allowed to peer out from the hatch. Which revealed hours of landscaping and maintenance. A dented hood from the hail storm. An assortment of sticks to pick up, dry and burn. Sweeping sand from the dock. Raking the beach of seaweed and muck. But we had been rewarded with sunshine which beamed through the light grey clouds.