It stormed in the night with thunder so fierce it rumbled through my room like a freight train. The accompanying lightning so bright, it lit up the L.E.D. of the alarm clock without my pushing the button for the light. 2:31.
It poured against the house and the windows with such force it was like a multitude of garden hoses cranked to the max. I lay there for a while, at one point burying my head deep in the pillows, unable to shut out the storm's noises, noises that were beginning to sound as if they’d emerged straight from a Wagner work.
The next thing I knew, the alarm was going off.
This morning, giant pools lined the streets on my way in to the bus station. The air is thick and warm, the water content so high I feel like I could reach above my head and wring the sky. The bus is stifling and close, the only real air coming in when the occasional stop is made and the door flung wide for egress or exit.
It’s sprinkling still and I can’t help but wonder if the weeklong forecast can possibly be right. Starting tomorrow, it predicts the return of summer, sunny and dry with highs in the 80s. Spring, quite literally, has been washed away.
During yesterday’s staff meeting, I learned that the skyway project is going to last about three weeks. I also learned there is going to be struck by a ceremonial wrecking ball at 5 tonight. Unless it’s storming like crazy, which it could be, I’m going to try to duck out a little early and see if I can’t capture it in pictures. Stay tuned.