Fall’s True Nature

I sit drinking coffee at the local Starbucks. The sky is still dark, lit with street lights and the festive bulbs of Starbucks’ patio. I don’t know what to write on this gloomy morning.

Yesterday it rained. The remnants sit in puddles in the parking lot. Autumn rains have a special place in my mind, indelibly printed there by a friend who took me out walking in the rain.

I have found Fall, not in the perfect blue of a sky, but in rain, in being drenched on a walk through a chilly night.

(In a dream: I walk through the storm. I am the storm. My voice is lost in thunder, and that is as it should be, because I will go back to the world of order where I am sixty and thought to be tame.)

It will be sunny today. It will be placid. I will smile at the sun and be mild, but I know my true nature. I know Fall’s true nature.

Thunderstorm

Where have all the thunderstorms gone?

Until today, they’ve curved around the south of us. Sometimes the north. Maryville has the distinction of being the highest point between Kansas City and Omaha. I wonder if this is part of the reason why we haven’t been getting the good storms.

Cue this morning

This morning I woke up to thunder. Close thunder. And rain pattering on the roof. Hours later, it still looks cloudy out and maybe rainy. And we are in a flash flood watch.

Maybe daylilies will come back from their wilting sulk. Maybe the grass will green up.

There’s another peal of thunder. It has been so long since we’ve had a good storm.

Thunderstorms

It’s six-fifteen in the morning and it still looks like night. We are in the midst of thunderstorms, although I think we’re between fronts right now.

I grew up listening to thunderstorms at night, convinced it was my duty to wake up the family if the house got hit by lightning. I love thunderstorms despite a childhood short of sleep; they became my confidante late at night.

Today I wait for the rumbles of thunder as the glowering clouds travel closer, the swishing of the trees, the gouts of rain. I fancy myself a witch of the storm, holding my arms skyward, drenched by an onslaught of rain. In reality, I’m afraid enough of lightning that I would not do something that foolish.

North of us, the roads are still flooded by a freakish mix of melting snow from the Dakotas and hard rain. South and east of us, there’s a chance of severe weather, which includes hail, high winds, and tornadoes. Lightning strikes kill people every year.

Thunderstorms command respect. Even as I enjoy them, I keep them at a distance.