It's magical. Lightning on steroids. Up so high, the bolts are hidden. The black looks solid until the puffs of light begin to pulsate all over the heavens, and the translucency of the billowing clouds is ignited in strobes of back light. Silent beauty that defies the reality of the electrically charged rage ripping apart the heavens behind that curtain of calm.
It's rare when the storm maintains its distance and puts on these shows of awesomeness. I sit in the soft dark, my feet propped up, a warm bowl of buttery popcorn, a glass of fruity wine and take in the light show for hours. Don't I wish. I'm stuck in this room trying to outguess when the showers will start and stop and start again.
There's nothing faraway about these rains these days. It rains just enough to raise the humidity to sweltering, then it stops so I can work outside until I'm an oily mess. It rains and I'm still watering, because it never seems to rain quite long enough to go past dismal damp to soggy wet.
We're in the dry twilight zone of town where it rains all around all around all around...okay...I've lost my thoughts in the abyss of discontent. Somehow my feet flew out from under me last week as they did a short tap dance before they gave up and let me drift at 80 miles an hour towards that cold hard concrete.
The only thought that short circuited through my brain was SAVE THE TEETH. I keep remembering those childhood nightmares when I tore off my two front teeth like tissues of paper. It's hard living with an over reactive imagination. It never gives up.
My thoughts always dredge up that make-believe image of me and my broken teeth to hover over me as I travel back and forth across that concrete slab Vic calls a patio, and I call the only place in the south where I can walk barefoot. Right now it's harder living with out-of-wacko knees while my successful bone thumping doc is vacationing in Rio.