Thunderstorms Are Terrible

Spring has really delivered on its adages this year. On the first weekend of March snow ravaged our neighborhood. The clouds dumped six inches over night, but the final day of the month brought the first 60 degree day.

In like a lion, out like a lamb.

April is faithful with the showers, which I desperately hope will bring May flowers.

Until then, we risk wet socks in an unseen puddle, slick roads and worn out windshield wipers. And thunderstorms.

I seem to be in the minority when I say that I don't like rain. I don't like thunderstorms. The sounds of rain on a rooftop floods me with anxiety. I think it's something about the constant buzzing sound- it's a physical representation of the way I feel if I've had too much caffeine.

To some, a grey day inspires a cozy blanket, a book and a cup of tea. For me, the grey feels heavy and thick, like swimming in jello... if you mixed people and orange jello together.

Thunder startles. Thunder booms, shakes your house and wakes you with a jump in the middle of the night. You don't know why you've woken but you know it's not good. Waking with that dread in your chest is enough to put you on edge for a whole day, to give you the sense that something will go terribly wrong at any moment.

Is there any sort of weather or scenery that really challenges you?  Forces you to hold onto the rare warm breeze and the promise that May flowers are working their way up as we speak?