I got home last night just in time for a thunderstorm. The sky had been growing steadily darker, so I knew it was coming. All I did last night was curl up with a book and listen to the storm. I *love* summer storms. One of my favorite childhood memories was watching the storms cross over when I was at my grandparents' house in Tennessee. You could see the storm building, building, building, until finally the pressure was almost visible, and then that first crack of lightening would light up the sky and the thunder would just roll and roll. One thing I missed when I lived in Portland were thunderstorms. There was just not enough land between the coast and the city to build up that kind of pressure.
I didn't turn on the TV to see what was going on with last night's storm. My love for thunderstorms has been hijacked in recent years with all the new technology that can track a storm's progress, block by block, through the city. Now that I know all the details, fear has crept in and replaced the sheer joy and wonder. Now I worry about where to hide if there's a tornado, or winds strong enough to topple the tree in the front yard. This fear was exacerbated earlier this year when we had a bad storm in the middle of the night. I had heard it was coming, but it wasn't expected to reach my area until after midnight. It was a weeknight and I was tired, so I went to sleep. Anyone who knows me knows that sleeping through a storm is no problem for me...I sleep like the dead. But apparently I shouldn't have slept through that one, probably. One home just 4 blocks away was completely destroyed, several others had severe damage, and you could see where the tornado had touched down and grazed homes within 100 yards of my house. Hmmm...maybe I shouldn't be so sanguine about these storms.
But that didn't stop me last night. I wasn't about to turn on the TV. Blissfully ignorant, I can still enjoy the storm for what it is, rather than what it may bring. Now if I just had a screened in porch where I could sit and watch it roll by.