and the sweet smell of
approaching rain are things I enjoy...but then the
thunder rumbles deeply and quietly, and I get this incredible sensation, like something great is about to happen. And then it does. An ominous CRACK explodes in the sky, the rain gushes from the clouds, and lightning pierces through the thick, heavy sky, threatening to strike from ten different directions. The rain crashes to the ground,
and it sounds like rice spilling over my kitchen floor. I am entranced, the way most are when they stare into fire. I absolutely love storms. I love the thrill
when the lights flicker in the early evening, and then go out. I love the black canvas of the sky as bright lights scrape against it, the streets as huge puddles form, the cold wind that engulfs us with the sweetest of all perfumes, and the symphony of the thunder.
I am incredibly lucky that my family shares my love for this great show of nature. If black clouds are in the distance, my husband helps me gather the kids, and we clamber into our van to chase down those clouds and catch the rain. We actually chased a storm clear
into Idaho one year, but we never quite caught up to it. On one occasion, when the rain poured down long and hard, my husband
drove us all around town, searching for the biggest puddles to drive our car through. I swear I thought we were going to get stuck, because the streets were flooding so badly, but we all loved it, and went around the block a second and third time on the really big ones. On days where gas money is tight, we sit on our porch, wrapped in warm blankets with bare feet, and we watch. If the wind is too strong, we watch from our open windows, lights turned off to catch all of the glory. "Did you hear the fumder?" my children excitedly shriek at each little rumble. Storms are my family's favorite event.
But then, just as suddenly as it has come, the storm stops. My heart sinks as the clouds wring out their last few drops, and when the sun pushes the blackness away. I search the sky for any lingering flashes of light, and shush those around me with the hopes of catching one last parting sound of thunder...which never comes. I hate the ending of storms. It's like the day after Christmas when the excitement is gone, and when regular songs are back on
the radio. When the storm has ended, there's nothing left to watch, nothing left to listen to. Sure, rainbows are pretty, but they are nothing to the blinding flashes of lightning. Yes, I love to hear the songs of birds, but it's such a letdown after hearing the booming thunder. Maybe it's the infrequency of Utah storms that make them so special to us, and for that I am grateful. It gives me something wonderful to look forward to.