My Fascination with Thunder and Lightning

Storm chasing from my reading chair

Photo by NOAA on Unsplash

It must be storming again.

The shifting of the solstice was messing with my circadian rhythms; I had no idea what time it was.

That might have been thunder that woke me.

Moments later, I caught the movement of light through the blinds; it was too flighty for a car in the drive. I got out of bed and put the coffee on.

In my study I shifted my reading chair — I really must get one that’s easier to move — then shifted it again, and again, and again, as the lightning flashed and the blasted walls hid the fantastic from view.

Then I realized the magic was all around me.

To the northeast, the center of the storm released a bolt of lightning resembling the symbol on battery boxes, its thunder a startling smack — sharp and loud.

Its path was nearly vertical, its release of electricity traveling from sky to earth so quickly that my eye could only catch the earth’s response — a stream of positive energy traveling up to meet it. Another of nature’s optical illusions.

From the south, there came a fork of lightning, one tine traveling toward the ground, the other to the cloud beside it. I counted until I heard its thunder…