I was kicking myself at about 11 o’clock today. The sun was shining bright, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. It was 70 degrees out. I would’ve ridden my bike to work if I thought it was going to turn out that nice, but the forecast called for thunderstorms. I thought the weatherman had fooled me again.
But in the space of half an hour a wide gray sheet of higher-level clouds started to roll in from the west. Shortly thereafter, larger, lower, nastier-looking clouds followed along and the wind picked up to a dull roar. Deadwood fell from the trees, and the last dry leaves of fall raced down the streets and across open lots following jagged, frenzied paths.
I was just picking Leah up from daycare when the full force of the storm blew through. It was a beauty. Even bereft of leaves, the scraggly canopies of the trees near the daycare whipped back and forth and bent against the force of the gale. After a couple seconds the rain began to fall in sheets of huge, heavy drops that flew vertically through the air.
It was all tremendously exciting. And brief. After only a couple minutes, the rain had stopped, and the sky brightened in the west. I was hoping my flowers at home had enjoyed at least a small drink. Every day another sign that summer is right around the corner.