As The Shades of Evening Draw On

October is not a month that I usually associate with rain, at least not in the same sense as I do April and May, but with close to eleven inches of rain so far this month, and another two to four inches of rain expected from the storm that is raging outside, I think a long dry spell for November would be welcomed. Maybe even through December considering that here in Maine our rainfall is already twelve inches above average. However, considering the recent weather pattern we seem to be in, I imagine it won’t be too long before I’m looking at snow piled right up to my windowsill.

The lights have been flickering on and off for the last half hour now. I decide it might be best to unplug the computer and TV, and just make an evening of it at my kitchen table, reading and writing in my journal. Nor’easters are always impressive, and this one so far has been putting on an incredible display of wind and rain since mid-afternoon. The trees bend in a frenzied dance, shedding leaves and small branches that scatter about in the yard and street. Bobbing like a bobble head toy, my cat puts on an impressive display of concern as it looks out the window.

The coffee maker makes its last gurgle just before the power goes out shortly. The power comes back on but it isn’t too long before the lights start to flicker again. I decide enough is enough. If I’m going to have flicker, than I’ll take it in the soft form of lit candles, rather than a harsh, sputtering light bulb. I get a couple of candles out and set them up on the table. Once lit, I cut the lights.

I sit down in the chair and marvel at the change of atmosphere I’ve created. The ambiance from the warm hue of the candles, along with the rain beating against the windows, makes me feel as if I’ve been transported back in time. Considering this is the week ending with Halloween, I decide what better night than this to become reacquainted with Edgar Allan Poe.

“The Fall of the House of Usher” has always been a particular favorite of mine. The opening lines especially have a sonorous, mystical quality:

During the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the autumn of the year, when the clouds hung oppressively low in the heavens, had been passing alone, on horseback, through a singularly dreary tract of country; and at length found myself, as the shades of the evening drew on, within view of the melancholy House of Usher.

Article Author: S L Cunningham

S L Cunningham is a freelance writer and has poems and feature articles published in several small press magazines and newspapers. His column, "Unburned Pieces of the Mind" has been featured in the Village Soup Citizen. …

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