Rainstorm
Posted By Vonna on October 26, 2009
It is nine o’clock in the morning, and the world has grown cold and gray. Thunder rumbling in from the Gulf of Mexico lets me know we are in for a storm.
The big, elderly oak trees at the back of my yard whip in the wind, their knobby, arthritic limbs twisting and squeaking. Hard, thin streaks of rain pelt our patio cover with each drop making a distinct ping! A rabbit just darted, quick as the lightning flashing above, across the grass from beneath the spirea to the thicker cover of the azaleas.
Now the rain is coming down with gusto. The individual pings on the patio cover have become the steady warning of a tireless rattlesnake. No hummingbirds today.
But I have a scene in the book I’m writing that takes place during a thunderstorm, so this is the perfect time to revise it. The scene is in the woods. I have a convenient small forest behind my house. In the search for authenticity (my character is stuck out in the storm), should I go out into the rain, huddle in a tree-cave, smell the wet earth, hear the happy frogs and the miserable squirrels, feel my hair sticking to my face and my clothes getting soaked, let goose bumps spread over my arms, watch beetles scurry from their flooded burrows?
Maybe not. I’ve done all that before, so today I’ll sit inside with my feet wrapped in a cozy blanket and a steaming mug of mint tea beside me. I’ll watch the storm through the window, and write about it.
I love thunderstorms! I love them best when I’m warm and cozy inside.
What a gorgeous description! I love thunderstorms, too.
And this is a bit off topic, but I wanted to say thank you for supporting my brother’s fund raising efforts for autism research. He finished the marathon successfully, and we both appreciate your generosity. My nephew has autism, so this cause is near and dear to our hearts. Thanks again~
~Kate
Twelve hours later it is still dripping.
Kate, congratulations to your brother for finishing the marathon. What an achievement! My best wishes to him and his family.