“Mom, we need to hurry up and leave before the thunderstorm gets here, I don’t want you driving home in the rain, you know it’s going to be a bad one.” She’s washing the last of the dirty dishes in the sink, back to me as I stand at the kitchen door, and as much as I know she wants to finish, it’s just too late, we need to go. The storms in the Okanagan can be a furious combination of beauty, and danger.
The season is over
Clean dishes and an organized kitchen are her contributions to the end of a busy strawberry season that’s left everyone glad to be done with it. But the last moments are being hurried along by the ominous black clouds rolling down where the mountains pierce the sky.
The light is fabulous, eerie, moving, diffused, gloriously beautiful. It makes me want to rush home grab the camera and find the nearest open field, and click away at the clouds until I’m drenched.
But the storm isn’t
Except….for the flashes of lightning, and the rolling thunder.
We wave goodbye to each other and as I watch her car nose down the long, dusty drive, I can’t help but be mesmerized by the darkly forming shapes drowning out the evening light.
Clouds with holes like a giant colander, stream light, from small openings that shift and soar.
Not a good time for a skirt
Slamming on the brakes, I peel off my seatbelt, getting drenched is worth it, I must get a shot of this, even if I don’t have my big camera. Mom’s brake lights flash red in front of me, she stops, but I wave her home, go, rush, stay dry.
Grabbing the cell phone from my bag, and fumbling with the switch, I hope I’ll be able to dodge drops by standing close to the truck. My skirt is whipped into a frenzy by the wind, alternately tugged, and pushed, my hair billowing up, falling down, there is a rushing sound of wind in my ears. There’s no problem with modesty, I’m standing on the side of a country road in high winds, no one in their right minds will be out.
Head for the hills
Rushing headlong into home, the light over the hills is stunning silhouetting the barns, and trees.
But the light, the way the clouds form, and move, the flashes of lightning who can drive away from that?
Lightning flashes, thunder rolls across the sky, so loud it’s almost visual. It’s time to leave, to drive from the storm, the electrical charge in the air not only coming from the thunder storm. I feel fully alive, on edge, every sense pinging, but in such a good way.
Part of me wonders if storm chasing would make a good career, right now I’m in fully, determined to stay, but the sensible part knows the torrential downpour, and limited visibility will only mean waiting it out longer on this side of the highway, and I am already late enough….
Now if only I had my other camera….
Jen @ The Light Laughed