For the first time in months, there was lightning and thunder today. I clapped with excitement. I love the passionate power of thunder: it reminds me of being a little girl. My adult life has been spent in Mediterranean climates, which are wonderfully clement, but quite boring from a sky-drama point of view.
I think as a little girl I learned something of being an extrovert from the weather. During the summer, the humidity would build up and the mood would become oppressive. The world looked a little jaundiced in the polarised light. Then the skies would open with deafening claps of thunder, and warm splashes would pelt down from above. The roads would steam. For ten minutes everything in sight was obscured by the veil of rain. And then the world would be clean, washed, and everything would smell new again.
I think I learned to have arguments this way: when the tension builds, let it all out and all will quickly be washed away. As it turned out, climate was not the best classroom for character. I have subsequently learned to have more temperate disagreements (winds light to variable, mild showers predicted), and not to revert to the silent treatment (cold fronts).
But I still love thunder.