I Love Thunderstorms

The flash and boom just does something to me

I’m not sure I can explain it even to myself, but I’ll do what I always call “writing my way to meaning” and give it a shot.

When I hear thunderstorms coming in, the first thing I do is go out on my front porch and sit under the roof and wait. I live in the woods but our house is in a pretty good-sized clearing so I can see a good way off. The muted booms start in the distance. The sky darkens. The low white clouds charge across the sky from West to East; above them, grayness covers the visible horizon.

I wait.

The tallest trees begin to sway. That’s how I know it’s getting close- the trees warn me, waving at me more and more frantically to take shelter. Except for the shushing of millions of leaves on branches, the air is silent. But it’s not a quiet silence. The birds are in hiding but there’s an electricity; the air is, as they say, pregnant with expectation.

I wait.

Finally, a small flash in the distance and quite a few seconds later, a dull rumble. I smile wide. Within a few minutes, it’s here. It gets too scary outside, so I come in and pull a chair up to the large window to watch the show.

Front row seats, how lucky am I?!

The lightning goes nuts, the sky is bright white, purple and white again. It’s flash boom all around the house. The trees are dodging lightning bolts, the jagged zippers charging in random directions and hitting whatever they feel like. A really bright zap turns the whole outside brilliant and there’s a snap, but it’s an electrical snap. Holy shit, that one was close!

Is that rotation in those clouds?? Okay, I draw the line at tornadoes. I’ve never been in one, but I find them terrifying. Maybe I was in one in a past life; it almost feels like PTSD when my phone goes off with a tornado warning. Once I ran down to the basement storage room, which is in the middle of the house and has cement walls, and cried in terror. Unreasonable? I think if you ask someone who’s experienced it, they’d say not.

After a nice long, exhilarating time, the storm begins to move East. Behind it, the sky lightens, and patches of blue appear. The birds come out of hiding and return to singing and chirping as if it never happened. I smile widely again, satisfied.

So, what the hell is this weird obsession and enjoyment of a thunderstorm? My husband shares it with me, often joining me outside and then by the window to oooh and ahhh in harmony with me. The dog not so much. If you want to know what keeps a forty-three-year marriage going, I’d have to say a common love of weird things. At least in our case.

I think it’s partly the thrill; I also love roller coasters, the bigger and badder, the better. And I’m a bridge-jumper, not suicidal but if it’s under thirty feet high, I’m in.

I also think it’s the natural beauty of it, and the wonder and awe of the power of nature. I also love waterfalls, snow-capped mountains, and the stars in a black sky where I try to imagine the distance and time/space and numbers like trillions. Mind-boggling and mind-blowing.

Yes, I think that explains it. I like to have my mind blown by nature. Okay, I’m good with that.

While I was writing this, a pretty good storm was raging outside my window and inspired this article. But now the sun is coming out, so I’m off to do some gardening and then go for a run or a hike.

Until the next storm.