On the Coming of the Rain

I tend to say that, essentially, I don't like rain or clouds--I'm Arizonan, after all: I have to embrace the sun. But storms, storms are another matter.

They come with irony, in the heat of the summer. One day will be ten above a hundred; the next will pour down the water balloons of the sky.

The rain may be brief, and it may be light, or it may be ridiculously heavy--sometimes there will even be bucket-sized drops of rain for all of one minute. It's quite hilarious; it's temperamental and charactered.

And then there is the thunder, of course. Big booms in the distance or loud banging from right beneath your toes. Lightning, either in flashes or bolts. I have seen, much to my delight, practically the entire southern sky decked out with veins of lightning, handfuls of bolts skirting around the horizon. I have my affection for the sun, but thunderstorms are awesome.