The rain on my rooftop stills my heart. The thunder rolls around and through the valley, reminding me that storms are mobile. They do not stay forever. The deluge pounds the shelter over my head. It rolls down outside my window like a waterfall, creating a familiar hiss. The lightning and thunder are having a loud conversation. An argument, maybe? It seems the whole world is arguing these days and they have simply joined in with the crowd. The trees are waving wildly in the storm. A yellow river flows down the driveway. Clearing the pollen as it goes. Spring-green buds all around the house. This rain will bring more of the curtain which separates houses from one another. Out one window a low roll of thunder begins and then rolls past the window on the opposite side of the house. It is covering the valley with its sound.

It reminds me of when we used to watch the storms roll in from the front porch of Cloudwood. First, you could see the clouds slinking along the ridges in the distance. Then, as they approached the sound began as a low rumble. The gray mist would flash with white strobe lights. Soon the reverberation of the rain came. You could hear it on the next ridge over. Small drops just off the porch, then big ones, then the downpour. I used to love sitting on the front porch swing and watching the storms arrive with their wind. It was like a cleansing. The air was fresh. Then it rolled on to wash the next peak. Like a car wash, moving on past.

I could watch storms from the mountaintop and see it all, before it arrived and watch it leave.  Here, in the valley, I do not have that luxury. Two different viewpoints. Same storm. Loud. Booming over my head as I write. Lots of hot air. Causing some damage, but mostly blowing itself out. In the valley, it is hard to know what is next, but on the mountain, it is clear this is a temporary situation. As soon as one storm passes, the next one is right behind. Rows of storm clouds. Separate, but still Interconnected. Together, blowing everything beneath them to pieces or purging the air of thick particles which make it difficult to breathe.

The aftermath is unknown in the midst of the storm. Only that, one way or another, things will be different afterwards. Clear air. Fresh breathing. Pollen or smoke from fires will be gone. Or total destruction that requires rebuilding everything. No way to know. No way to control it. Only thing to do is watch. Listen. Pay attention. Sit in the storm.