I was cleaning some weeds out of my flower bed when the storm blew in… first the darkening sky, then the wind that felt so good against my flushed skin… covered in sweat from the effort and humidity… then the storm crashed over me… it was like the opening of a faucet… no gentle rain, this… this was angry, stinging, fat drops of rain that were punishing as they hit. I refused to be swayed and defiantly knelt in the now-mud, pulling weeds and trying to resist the temptation to shake my fist angrily at the sky in some clichéd move. Soon, soaked to the skin and nearly blinded by the water running over my face I gave in… driven in by the lightning and thunder popping all around me. I almost dared the storm to strike me… feeling angry and spoiling for a fight – not that a fight against nature is one I am likely to win… Still…. the storm darkened sky did not disappoint – nor did the wet leaves in the soft after-storm light… Hope you enjoy these pictures as much as I enjoyed taking them… storm-weary and muttering at the sky.
captivatingbitter 