Despite my good intentions to the contrary, I did not go out for an early morning walk today. After sleeping for a very long time (and coping with a very badly upset stomach for about 3 hours in the middle of the night), I awoke today to the distant sounds of rolling thunder. Soon after hearing those distant rumbles, the sounds became louder and sharper, rattling the windows and vibrating the foundation of the house. Bright flashes of lightening punctuated the dim light in the bedroom, despite the fact that the windows are covered with blinds. The sound of the wind pushing hard against the windows and roaring through the trees just outside was loud, but nothing in comparison to what became a rapid-fire succession of violent claps of thunder that shook the rafters and my teeth. With every explosive crack of thunder, brilliant rays of blue light instantly swept the room, flashing momentary images on my eyes. It was as if I were looking, just for an instant, at old photo negatives in which I could barely make out the four posts of the bed, the sofa in the corner, and the floor fan. To use a favorite phrase of some members of my family, the sights and sounds of the morning were like "all hell was breaking loose."
I got up, put on a robe and slippers, and plodded out to the living room. I peered into the flashing dark morning sky, watching the horizontal rain buffet the exterior walls of the house, standing memerized as thick bands of rain swept across the rooflines of the houses behind us. The trees and bushes in the back yard were being whipped into frenzies of motion, looking for all the world like the plants were struggling mightily to uproot themselves and take flight.
We have three large, floor-to-ceiling stationary windows along one entire wall looking out onto the back patio and into the back yard. Those windows give us a wonderful perspective on fast-moving storm clouds as they muscle their way across the sky from west to east. Of course, those same windows are almost invitations to catastrophe for anyone, like me, who stands awestruck watching the fury of nature. A terrific gust of wind could shatter those windows or, more likely, propel a tree limb or errant trash can through the air and through the windows.
One of the loudest cracks of thunder and most brilliant flashes of lightening coincided with a brief power outage, lasting only a few seconds. It was long enough, though, to trigger battery backup warnings, so I shut down my wife's computer and my ownn and went back to my view of nature's fury. After watching in wonder for awhile, the winds began to diminish and the rain began to let up. I made a pot of coffee, which has become a rarity for me during the last few months, washed some dishes, put away those I'd washed last night, and turned on the television to get some news of the weather. Apparently, the storms had not been predicted, not even by late last night. They sprang up unexpectedly and got worse as they marched eastward. Wind gusts in excess of 60 miles per hour had been recorded just a few miles west of our house and nickel-sized hail had been reported and was still being reported to the east of us. Widespread flooding of low-lying areas was reported.
My wife got up a short while later. She had made a very early night of it last night and had been in bed for about 12 hours by the time she got up, but she said she had not slept much during the night. After her first cup of tea, we began the day in earnest, taking aim at knocking down the chores and errands we had set aside for today. One of mine was to write just a bit in my blog, since I've been so short on postings of late. One chore down. Next time, I'll work on making it a more intriguing read.
3 comments:
That's quite the account of the storm! Sounded very exciting! We get some very crazy storms here at the farm. It seems to be a geography-related thing, probably having to do with the nearby river. Storms seem to follow it and send blasts of lightning down all around us. We've had visitors practically scared out of their wits when they've stayed here. My brother and his girlfriend once stayed here while we were away on vacation and they said they were absolutely terrified by a thunderstorm that swept through one evening. I'm used to it now, but I can remember thinking it was pretty scary when we first moved here. That effect that you described about flashes of light being like looking at photo negatives. The wildest thing I ever saw was one spring when we had a violent thunderstorm when the snow was still on the ground (a very rare phenomenon). The white snow reflected the flashes anything dark turned very black with the snow making huge blasts of light. With just snow down and no leaves of the trees, the claps of thunder were so loud that it was terrifying. Our horses could go in and out of the barn and both of them went crazy zooming around the field, bucking and kicking. We watched them out the window and it was just as you say... like negative images. Pretty impressive.
Bev, I love watching storms. I guess I'm fascinated by their sheer power. I always love to see the way the skies can just seem to boil with power, with clouds swirling and painting wild pictures. I've always wondered how thunderstorms differ from place to place. Some people who move here seem to think the storms in Texas are the most powerful they've ever seen, but then I learn that, where they are from, thunder and lightening are rare occurences. Your description of the blasts of light reflecting off the snow makes me wish I could see it...it's not something I'm likely to see in Dallas!
The most amazing thing about a thunderstorm in late winter is the sound. You haven't heard thunder until you hear it when there's snow on the ground and the trees are without leaves. It's so incredibly loud.. like someone bashing a huge gong, and then the sound echoes for miles. I don't think we realize how much sound the grass, leaves on trees, and other vegetation absorbs. With just snow and ice, the reverberation is incredible. I've never been in canyon country during a bad thunderstorm, but it may be somewhat similar, but then again, perhaps not. Here, the countryside is relatively flat and open with the exception of forests, so perhaps the sound would carry a lot farther.
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