My neighbors and their kids have been adopted by a member of the canine variety, and as much as I enjoy the company of these furry four-legged creatures there is always a natural insecurity of fear whenever it crosses my path or communicates with me. Barking and growling are to be expected of dogs, yet this fear never seems to alleviate.
In contrast, the hailstorm we experienced here last week found me underneath a makeshift gazebo, secretly delighting in the roar and fury of the falling frozen rain. I watched the hail-drops falling all around, blistering the foliage as it rushed past, creating enduring plinks and plunks into puddles, my sketchbook in my lap in lieu of a notebook, and a design magazine is opened as I turn from cover to cover, fulfilling its function as a solution and not as style, while I dreamed away another rainy spring afternoon. Yet nature is much more awesome and majestic and terrifying, unbridled and unmaintainable, its strength and terrifying aspects instead thrill me to the inner core.
One of the best hail storms I’ve ever witnessed happened as I stood in the center of a stadium and heard the rush of tiny ice pellets on the metal bleachers before they even reached where I was.
We get hail a lot here. I’d love to take pictures, especially when it bounces off the ground, but I don’t think I would subject my camera to those sorts of conditions.
I like dogs but I am scared of the big ones too
It’s sunny this week
It was raining here, recently. A rainy Autumn afternoon. The river sizzled and spat and overflowed, the trees glistened and danced, and the drought (worst drought in a century) was losing its grip on this tired old land.