Just before midnight on Thursday, we were surprised to hear a loud noise. An unfamiliar noise. A “what in the world is that?” kinda noise. It was too loud, too near and too prolonged to be an airplane breaking a sound barrier. It wasn’t the neighbors. My husband stepped outside to take a look and saw lightening. Of course. We haven’t had a good ol’ storm for so long, we had forgotten about those exciting rumbles of thunder that give you enough time to run and get your camera.
As if a dump truck had backed up over our neighborhood and dumped its entire load ferociously, we were deluged. Growing up in the Midwest, I love a good storm. For some reason, it makes me feel excited, safe and adventurous all at once. It’s about the closest experience we have to a pioneer adventure.
By the time I took off my lens cap and focused, the furniture was covered.
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