Late spring sits on North Texas warm, wet and heavy. Sometimes the sky is postcard blue, other times dull and benign.
Sometimes it’s black as dread and just as still.
Sometimes multi-streaked lightning bolts rifle baseball-size hailstones at us. Birds are struck dead in flight by wondrous ice ball cannonade crashing through windshields and 90 degree heat.
Sometimes funnel clouds move around like giant old men shuffling aimlessly through corn fields oblivious to the commotion they cause.
All these times will occur in a single day. Excitement is quite literally in the air.
We check the weather radar before going to bed and then sleep warily, warning gadgets next to our heads.
A few hours later it begins again. Peacefully. Quiet with promise, and just a tiny smirk.
© 2012 DL WILLIAMS. All rights reserved.
I’m smiling because you (sort of) got your wish – weather that changes. I remember afternoons in the Deep South – the certainty that something would come blowing in. I find that comforting in its own way.