Saturday, June 17, 2017

In search of the storm

Tonight there was a supercell lollygagging on the northern horizon, and it was moving south. Toward me. So, I decided to upset the status quo by going out in search of the storm...

And I sure as hell found it. Good grief, did I ever get pounded. This happened on Hinkle Drive, just north of 380. I got tangled up in a barbed wire fence trying to make it into the sparse shelter of a loose copse of trees just as all hell was breaking loose.

I finally got all huddled down with my umbrella, down in there amongst the wet things and the fertile things and the rich things. How I huddled, for about 30 minutes. It was almost like being indoors, under those trees. But man, wasn't it hell raging outside.

Finally it started to let up and I crept out from my enclosure into an adjacent field. It was like a meadow in moonlight, except it was cloudlight. You know. Lowlight. Lowglow. Light bouncing around from cloud to ground and back up and down again.

It lit up everything. I could see the trees, right over there and to the north, where I'd been crouching. And I could see lightning flashing beyond the trees, through and behind them, with the intricate limbs and leaves of the copse outlined as black shapes in silver-blue fire. That sight alone made getting drenched totally worth it.

But now... now I can't help but wonder who all, if anyone, has ever seen a grassy field come back to life after a violent storm? I never have, or had, until tonight. What I'm talking about is the slow but increasing movement of a few bugs. One or two. Then shake it up a little. Just shake it up, until it gets back to normal. The storm is over.

It was one of the most amazing things I've ever stopped purposefully to witness the happening of.