The air is heavy and sweet, the smell of rain in the desert, toasted wet sand, sage and lavender. Up ahead gray and black clouds blow in, curdle, drop hail. Crap my rain jacket is at the bottom of my backpack.

Quickly empty contents of backpack. Cover self and backpack with poncho tarp. Watch hail buildup in a circle, hug knees to stay warm, BOOM! Jump a little. Count the seconds. Some of them are groundshakers. BOOM! Watch water trails on tarp BOOM!
When it storms in the Canadian Rockies I feel like an ant at a bowling alley. In the Desert, storms break up the heat, mud brown clay soil sticks to shoes, cows huddle up.

2 thoughts on “Storms 

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