For a moment I was transported back to Oklahoma. It's April, low 80s, and a thunderstorm rolling in. I literally watched the clouds form, and the sky go from brilliant blue to gray. The wind whipping the trees, leaves swirling in a cyclone. The rain beating against the windows, the lights flickering as the thunder booms and lightening flashes. Oh, Oklahoma! How I miss your turbulence.
It was over in less than 30 minutes. The bring Candace back to reality. In Oklahoma, it could go on for hours. I could stop anything, and watch the storm for hours (secretly hoping to spot a wall cloud). Not in Oregon. There are not enough thunderstorms here. There just aren't. I don't care what you say, the beauty of the storm is the violence, the unpredictably. The house shaking, the sky darkening the brilliant white of a nearby lightening strike. Mother nature with all her fury and vengeance.
Storms in Oregon are predictable. Steady rain, gray sky, cold air. Maybe it's just my contrary nature, but I thrive on routine, but love the unpredictable.
I hope it storms again.
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