Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Flashes on the Eyelids

When the first thing you see in the morning is the bright flash of a lightning strike on the inside of the eyelids, you know it's going to be wet. 

Waking up at 5AM in a benedryl haze is fine, it's an hour early.  The dog isn't up yet, she's snoring on the mat next to the bed.  It's dark, mostly.  There are flashes in the distance.  

Eventually, bare feet hit the floor and pad to the bathroom.   The phone is working its way through the start up sequence as more flashes get louder, brighter, and closer.  By the time radar can be checked, there is an abstract painting of red, yellow, and orange over the map edging toward the house.  

You should have gotten out of bed when you saw that first flash.

In the few moments it takes to get ready to walk out the front window, the first raindrops fall.  Those raindrops are about the size of a cantaloupe and there are big splats on the pavement in front of the house.  

Usher the dog out the door, maybe we can dawdle and let the rain pass.  It's Florida after all, most hit or miss storms are only 20 minutes long.


So much for that.  She's mostly deaf and now she's pacing around the inside of the house after getting startled by that lightning strike that hit within a few blocks.

Oh well, not even 6AM.  We can delay.  

Wait for a gap in the storms promised by that radar app on the phone and go about life.  After all, it's filling the pool and watering those plants that you enjoy looking at.

While it gets quieter, we sneak out and let Mrs. Dog relieve her urgency.   Returning to the house, another nearby lightning strike turns the house brilliant white while the relays on the power conditioners snap like a little old lady's creaky joints when she's getting up from her comfy chair.

Not yet the right time to go outside with a metal lightning rod in the shape of an umbrella.  Grab the "golf umbrella".  Carbon Fiber does not conduct electricity.  Leave the watch at home and all the electronics.  It's time to get outside.

At least the dog is fed, she'll be more interested in a quick dash around the block when that gap is here.

Ok, Lets Go!  Walk!

Silent other than the white noise of the rain hitting the pavement.  Just me and my "working dog" plodding around the block.  

Pretty much a normal day in the Wet Season here.  Into each life a little torrent must fall.  Downpours are normal.

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