Afternoon thunderstorms, the forecaster had been clear on that point. It was 8 a.m. —definitely not afternoon— why was I hearing the sound of a giant closet door being slid across the sky? And why when I turned the corner was the entire western sky darkening?
Here I was thinking how convenient that I could drop off my car and walk the 2 miles home, getting my exercise in early. Maybe I could out walk the storm; I quickened my pace.
Half way home and subtle, infrequent flecks of rain tapped against my bare arms. Another 100 yards and the taps were not so subtle—more like pellets as they cascaded off the brim of my cap. I started counting the time between lightening and thunder; 1 one thousand, 2 one thousand, 3 one thousand, 4 one – crackle, boom, BOOM! Okay that was getting close. I quickened my pace again; didn’t think that was possible, but clearly the motive was increasing.
Three quarters of the way home and it was ominously dark, yet cars hadn’t turned on their headlights. Option A, stay in the street and take a chance on not being seen by a driver; Option B, step into the poison ivy with my bare legs and endure 2 weeks of a horrendously itchy rash. In essence a life or limb choice. Then I remembered, I was still wearing sunglasses. It wasn’t as dark as I feared. I opted for the pavement.
The rain was coming down in a torrent by this point. On the plus side, I hadn’t worn a thin T and my baseball cap was decent at keeping the rain off my glasses so my vision, other than the darkness, was not obscured by rain drops.
“Ow!” The drops started stinging, and raising a racket. “Who is throwing stones?” I looked around—pea size hail with a few nickel size pieces thrown in for good measure. I thought of my open windows I had left at home and kept hustling.
Finally, I ran into the house, quickly shed my shoes, ran for the nearest open window, slid across the floor in my sodden socks, fell down hard, jumped up and slammed the window shut. I continued racing through the house, closing windows until finally I closed the last one and everything was quiet.
“Amazing how sound proof those windows seem,” I thought. Then I looked out. The rain and hail had completely subsided, the cloud had moved on and the sky brightened. Hope the mechanic could achieve better timing with my car.
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