Twice A Year

On Tuesday we had a storm. Thunder was involved—and a rainbow. Everything you could ask for from a storm, really.

I grew up on thunder. There is a wildness about it that's to love. Around here, it thunders, like, twice a year, though.

Tuesday: I didn't even know it was gonna be THAT kind of storm. It caught me by surprise on an evening dog walk that almost didn't  happen. We were feeling lazy but decided to go anyway.

My first step on the sidewalk, the thunder cracked, a few blocks from my house, a rainbow unfolded, and still further on, sun beams pierced the downpour—turning the rain into a kinda shower of light.

I guess what I'm saying here is thank god for dogs and the way their sad droopy eyes coerce you into walking outside when you were inclined to stay in. Outside is, of course, where all the good stuff happens.