I’ve always loved weather that tears in and out in a heartbeat. Dark, heavy, cumulus clouds that sneak in from behind the hills on a sunny day and catapult big, weighty drops of rain before the sun even has a chance to hide its face. Weather that threatens to be a party killer as voices are heard: “that’s not rain–that’s hail!” and “was that thunder?”
But because it’s spring, and because we’re blessed (I think we’re blessed) to live at the end of the funnel that is the Columbia River Gorge, these events are not party killers. The hail, the streak of lightning in the distance, the soaked cotton jacket, they’re instead what make us remember a day that would have been easily forgotten, even for as pleasant as it was. That bit of weather wasn’t the end of the party. It was intermission, the wake up call, the chase scene in the middle of the movie, the reminder that there’s a little pinch of danger always lurking just around the corner. In a week’s time, it’s the only thing we’ll remember about this day.
I love a bit of weather.
AND HERE IS THE WHOLE SET…