Raindrops, some as big as peas, pound the roof of my mud house. Streaks of lightning protrude at seemingly regular intervals, followed by loud rolls of thunder. I feel like I am in the middle of the clouds. I mean, I’m close though right?
Standing at the door and smelling the ozone from the lightning and the fresh rain and the now-cooler air, I watch the hail-stones fall periodically, just tap dancing on the cement stairs.
The morning was bright, sunny, and humid. My guess that it would rain was correct. I have succeeded in my attempt today to be a meteorologist. It was unseasonably warm, summer-like really. A trend that has been over the past month or dso. The humidity, something that rarely occurs here in the semi-arid portions of the world, could be felt. I was in fact reminded of summer back home, and the daytime heating into thunderstorms. Granted, it never gets as humid and sticky here as it does back in Ohio… oh the good ‘ol Midwest. Home of baseball and barbecues. Home to some of the most stunning thunderstorms I have been privileged to witness. (Yes, I feel privileged.)
Snow on the mountains around my village has virtually all melted. In fact, without any upper-elevation snowfall, we will probably have no snow by mid-late May. About a month ahead of last year. This will probably cause a few problems in the late summer. But at least the rain has been good to the fields.
Fields of wheat have been groomed throughout the seasonal changes. Now, the valley looks like a sea of green grass, waving and singing a song in the spring-time wind. If you visited now, you would never know how brown and dull colored this place gets in the late summer dry heat.
Sprinkled throughout the fields, wildflowers have sprouted, a sure sign of spring. Yellows, Oranges, Reds, Whites, Purples all peep through, and make for a wide array of color. Poppies, the only flower I can recognize (reds) wave in the wind.
As the storm moves east, the rain turns down to a drizzle, then just a few drops fall that were certainly late to the game. The birds arise again, and sing their sweet tweet-tweet songs. The chickens follow (they would) and gaggle and talk a bit, off to find some food, or just peck the ground.
The sun is yet to peep through, but it certainly lurks. The thunder becomes more distant, and no more lightning can be seen. I feel fairly content, just standing in the doorway, watching the nature below.
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