Dark and stormy

It was a dark and stormy night.

A sentence at once concise and atmospheric, but accused of being florid, and called purple prose. Stained, perhaps, by the writing of the story that followed these words--Paul Clifford by Edward Bulwer-Lytton--which I have never read. 

Well, I like it. Especially because it is also the first sentence of A Wrinkle In Time by Madeleine L'Engle, my favorite book when I was ten. And eleven. And maybe twelve. Still one of my favorites. I didn't know at the time that the first line was a literary allusion, and maybe a private joke. Still.

But if a dark and stormy night is too florid, how can it be toned down? Dark and stormy nights are by nature dramatic. And maybe, sometimes, slightly purple. More epically poetic than prosaic. 

   It was a dark and stormy night. Even though it was only afternoon--it was that dark. And stormy. She had already run out to gather in the laundry. Hanging it up outdoors had been a risk, given the forecast, but with the dryer out of action, there really was no other option--laundry simply had to be done. She'd checked the gutters around the roof and along the street. The cat was in, the umbrellas were out, and there was at least one lantern or flashlight in every room. They were in the mountains, after all. You learned to be prepared for the inevitable tree on the power lines or you went to bed early.
    Only one thing was missing. He was late, and he had not called to let her know that he would be. This was frighteningly unusual. She picked up the phone again and wasn't sure whether to be relieved or not to hear a dial tone.
   She decided to bring out some candles and place them in the safer places--over a wide plate in the bathtub, in the kitchen sink--anywhere they wouldn't get knocked over.
   Another glance out the window. Nothing.
   The long trailing branches of the willow and elm shivered, then began to whip and slash. 
   An engine ground its way up the hill. 

Yeah, ok.

It was a night, all right, a night long remembered for its ferocious storminess. Yup. Dark and stormy. 
And that means rain. And leaks.

***

The night was dark with the clouds that blew suddenly out of the west as the sun went down. Beautiful for about five minutes, until the wind hit. Near blew me off the cliff. Dang ruined the sunset, let me tell you.

***

Dark and stormy was the night
Wind curled and blew with all its might
The rain did slant, the wind did rant
No moon shone from its lofty height.

I think the presence of the word "lofty" qualifies this as purple...poetry. And the fact that it's in verse.

***

The night was dark and stormy too
The clouds erased all trace of blue
A wind arose and froze my nose
Achoo achoo achoo achoo

My favorite!