All the night things were fooled by the glowering skies. In the hushed anticipation,
Frogs began their nightly chorus as crickets laid down a steady beat, echoing into
this false dusk, punctuated suddenly by stabs of frantic lightning, bombarded by the
rolling of a timpani, mallets on skin, presaging the arrival of a downpour, the
outpouring, the deluge. We hunker down, my cats and I, after a sharp crackle and
concussive reverberation. Too close for comfort. The lake creatures have gone mute,
given up on their futile choruses, now that the storm has come.
We had a lightning strike a couple of minutes ago that might have topped anything I’ve ever experienced. It was close, the thunder immediate, and my heart is racing. Wish I’d still had the camera going, but the audio would have needed censoring.
See that bare spot on my lawn? That’s still fallout from last year’s Hurricane Michael. And we’ve got a potential hurricane heading this way as I write this. I’m not ready for another storm season.