I sit with my back to a wall of windows when I'm on the computer, which is always these days, except when I'm standing at the copier. I live a scintillating life. But this afternoon, as I swung around to put another article to bed in a box (yay!) I looked out and across Interstate 40 to a full-out pounding rain on the horizon. Within a couple of minutes it had crossed the freeway. Raindrops so fat I thought they were hail. Rumbling thunder. Black, evil skies. Trees tossing and whipping with the wind. Rain blowing like a wave across the pavement. Then it was over, leaving a sheen of wet and the most marvelous organic smell behind. Not just wet earth, but a blend of earth and vegetation and fresh.
This is the beginning of the monsoons, which I thought was pretty funny when I heard the word in context with a short-grass prairie, but that's what they're called. I finished work, went home to Grace and got out the camera. The rain was done, at least for a while, but the sky kept taking bows.
|A faint rainbow hugged the bottom edge of a brooding cloud in the northeast while rain poured down all around it.|
This is one of the weird things that I've noticed about the rain here, that you can be in the dry center of a circular curtain of rain. People are doing rain dances, praying for rain right.here but it usually seems like it's over there.
|One of the things I love about storms like these is the strange, glowing light.|
Ragged clouds kept forming and dissipating, a never-ending show.
This session has dripped a little more rain this evening but I'm waiting for the next powerhouse. There's nothing like a good thunderstorm.
Thought of the day:
Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. Let the rain sing you a lullaby. (Langston Hughes)