Last night we fell asleep to the gentle pitter patter of rain. It got me thinking about my appreciation of turbulent weather, even though the conditions were anything but! There is something about howling wind and driving rain that calls to my feral side.
Let me explain, in Africa I loved watching thunderstorms. The day starts out as any other except there is a heaviness in the atmosphere, a smell of ozone in the air. It might be hours before the rain comes but you can feel the electricity, a taste of expectancy. Slowly the clouds gather, turning the sky a bruised colour - night has come early. The clouds go black, full of water, eager for release.. But not yet. There is a loud rumble in the distance as the thunder growls across the land, like so many tables being dragged and pots broken. Silence! A flash, splitting the sky in half, a delay, then an almighty BOOM as the sound of lightening catches up to you. Chaos reigns above but still not a drop has been spilt. The roar of thunder and lightening grows, ever closer, until it feels as though the sky will plummet to the ground.
At last relief comes with that first droplet of water, the beginning of a deluge. There is nothing gentle about this storm, after all the advertising it does not disappoint, the rain pours forth. The water is forceful, impatient to reach earth. If you step outside now you will feel the power as drops zing against your skin. This is my time, having waited so long, this is the time I go out to welcome the rain. Then it is over as though it never was.
Ahh, an African Thunderstorm, so awesome that words cannot capture its essence!
Here we do not get the driving rain that rushes over Savannah lands into the mountains but I have an alternative. The Wind, an untamed force, in a submissive land. Come winter the arctic blows its icy fingers across the UK. On these days I lift my face to greet it, raising my arms wide. The wind rushes forward in answer pulling my hair and clawing at my coat. I struggle to explain this wildness that runs through me. It is an eccentric, but significant part of my being. Like the storm or the wind, something unreachable, wild and free..
Now don’t get me wrong. As much as I love to dance under the pouring rain in Africa the chances of me doing so here are fairly slim! Drizzly weather does not appeal to me in the same fashion!
Let me explain, in Africa I loved watching thunderstorms. The day starts out as any other except there is a heaviness in the atmosphere, a smell of ozone in the air. It might be hours before the rain comes but you can feel the electricity, a taste of expectancy. Slowly the clouds gather, turning the sky a bruised colour - night has come early. The clouds go black, full of water, eager for release.. But not yet. There is a loud rumble in the distance as the thunder growls across the land, like so many tables being dragged and pots broken. Silence! A flash, splitting the sky in half, a delay, then an almighty BOOM as the sound of lightening catches up to you. Chaos reigns above but still not a drop has been spilt. The roar of thunder and lightening grows, ever closer, until it feels as though the sky will plummet to the ground.
At last relief comes with that first droplet of water, the beginning of a deluge. There is nothing gentle about this storm, after all the advertising it does not disappoint, the rain pours forth. The water is forceful, impatient to reach earth. If you step outside now you will feel the power as drops zing against your skin. This is my time, having waited so long, this is the time I go out to welcome the rain. Then it is over as though it never was.
Ahh, an African Thunderstorm, so awesome that words cannot capture its essence!
Here we do not get the driving rain that rushes over Savannah lands into the mountains but I have an alternative. The Wind, an untamed force, in a submissive land. Come winter the arctic blows its icy fingers across the UK. On these days I lift my face to greet it, raising my arms wide. The wind rushes forward in answer pulling my hair and clawing at my coat. I struggle to explain this wildness that runs through me. It is an eccentric, but significant part of my being. Like the storm or the wind, something unreachable, wild and free..
Now don’t get me wrong. As much as I love to dance under the pouring rain in Africa the chances of me doing so here are fairly slim! Drizzly weather does not appeal to me in the same fashion!
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