Innocent Clouds – Photo: L. Weikel

The Other Shoe

We’re all waiting for it. You know it; I know it. We can pretend we’re going about our normal daily lives (such as they are in the Pandemic Times), but we’re all just actually treading water, biding our time. We’re waiting for the other shoe to drop.

That’s sort of how Karl and I felt as we took our walk this evening. The sky was actually relatively clear when we set out. There were some scattered, darker clouds to our north, but I checked the Weather Channel app on my phone and – sure enough – it was still declaring there was only a 20% chance of precipitation, hour by hour, for the rest of the evening.

We walked another quarter mile or so and very nearly turned back.

But then we just said the heck with it. We continued along our longer, four mile, walk-about.

Thunderhead Gathering

As we got further and further away from our home (and shelter), the clouds that had appeared to be traveling east seemed to descending upon us moment by moment. We climbed the largest hill on our trek and saw thunderheads amassing in the distance, while the sun broke through in those magical, celestial rays that, to me, always remind me of the presence of the God I first imagined as a child.

Meanwhile, as we walked and kept our vision mostly affixed to the skies above, we kept debating between ourselves whether the clouds were coming toward us or skirting us. Would we get walloped or would we managed to witness the impending storms merely from afar?

As we reached the apex of our journey, the place where we are furthest away from anywhere we can take shelter, we were rather shocked to notice thunderheads approaching us from the southeast now. It was as if they’d circled around and were herding us, prodding us on, while we could see equally threatening thunderheads gathering in the northwest.

Thunderheads amassing – Photo: L. Weikel

Discretion Was the Better Part

We arrived at a final decision point in our longer walkabout. We reached the intersection where we can proceed along the dirt road, which takes us another 1.5 miles, or turn right and get ourselves home in only about half a mile. Thunder rumbled in the distance, but perhaps it would never arrive.

We started along the dirt road, but only managed about ten steps when – again – something caused us to look at each other and decide otherwise. We turned around and took the shorter way home.

Along the way, ground to cloud lightning, ‘chain’ lightning, sizzled to the northeast. We were indeed surrounded. Rain splattered intermittently, but we made it home without getting soaked.

Once safely inside, I started making dinner and noticed how orangey-dark the whole house was. The color infusing our kitchen was definitely weird. I tried to capture it. This doesn’t do it justice. Then all of a sudden, the skies opened. The other shoe dropped.

It was as if hell was raining down upon us.

Before the shoe dropped – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-513)