Ooh, thunderstorm!
Jun. 21st, 2007 12:56 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eponymous_roseLet's get this out once and for all: I am terrified of thunderstorms. Yes, I study them and adore them and obsess over them and whatnot, but I'm also liable to go all pale and shaky at the first sign of lightning. People tend not to notice this, because what I do best when I'm afraid is talk. I describe various cloud formations, the varieties of lightning, even the weather warning procedures recently adopted by local TV stations.
When my roommate poked her head in my room and told me, with a big grin, to look out the window, I called up all the interesting factoids I could muster about ball lightning and St. Elmo's fire.
I saw the sheets and sparks and fluid streams of lightning exploding across the sky like fireworks, and I started to talk.
No thunder at first, of course, and that always makes things a little more surreal. Flashes without sound, insubstantial - not even a drop of rain or a rustle of branches in wind. Scientifically, I knew that the lack of thunder probably meant that high winds were blowing near the site of the lightning strikes, messing with the sound. Logically, I realized that in a big city, echoes are more likely to get lost en route. Childishly, I found the whole thing insanely creepy and settled in to watch the storm play out.
It was dark, so clouds were only visible in the silent bursts of light. Long strips of black on darker black, piled up across the backdrop of a city's starless night. Too precise, arithmetical - perfectly straight lines don't suit nature at all, and my constant stream of chatter turned to that topic for some time.
The lightning turned jagged, cloud-to-cloud ("approximately 80% of all lightning passes from cloud to cloud and doesn't come in contact with the ground, you know"). The clouds were hanging low, but not too low, and they were moving fast, but not too fast, and the rain was finally starting to fall. Somewhere in the distance, the silence was broken and thunder grumbled impatiently, swept away by the gusting wind.
Radar imagery showed an impossible blotch of precipitation bearing down on the city. "Hailstones mess with radar echoes, give you unrealistically high precip readings." The raindrops were huge, spraying into smaller droplets as they hit the streetlights and the pavement. The lightning was closer, and the too-straight lines of clouds looked as though they'd been smeared by some giant, greasy hand.
My Gran's little brother was killed by lightning - he was standing inside their farmhouse, looking out the window at the time. Stay away from windows when there's lightning - keep an eye on the skies but don't get too close.
I was perched on my bedside table with my face against the glass, trying to pick out the angle of the rainfall and counting off the tornado warning signs I'd memorized as a kid. Rain spattered on the window, messing with my estimation - near horizontal, at least. The clouds were either moving impossibly fast or they were much closer to the ground than I'd anticipated. I spelled out a plan in my head, figured out what would have to happen for me to turn around and bundle everyone down to the basement. Was there a crawlspace beneath the stairs? Would there be enough room for all three of us and the cat? In this mess, would I even see a tornado coming?
It sounded like the long-delayed crash of thunder when the hail finally arrived - nickels and dimes jolting off the ground, a fitting soundtrack to the violence in the sky. The wind picked up and I jumped away from the window involuntarily as hailstones thudded into the glass. Just beyond the streaks of slush and water on the window, beyond the dark swirl of the hail in the sky, I could see the massive tree in the neighbour's yard swinging, creaking, bending. Meteorology comes from the Greek, archaically describing the study of things that fall from the sky. Over the years, meteoric came to mean "transiently brilliant".
The hail stopped, the rain slowed, and the lightning darted off into the distance. Some things are cliche for a reason: the storm ended as suddenly as it began. Eerie white clouds stood out, bleak and stark, against the layers of thicker cloud. Shapes, like you'd see lying on your back in a field on a warm summer day, played across the rapidly-changing skyscape. A gash of a grin across the expressionless sky.
In the distance, almost as an afterthought, a long stream of clouds spun briefly before settling back into a fluffy heap, racing in the wake of the storm.
I guess that's what they call dramatic renewal of purpose, eh?
When my roommate poked her head in my room and told me, with a big grin, to look out the window, I called up all the interesting factoids I could muster about ball lightning and St. Elmo's fire.
I saw the sheets and sparks and fluid streams of lightning exploding across the sky like fireworks, and I started to talk.
No thunder at first, of course, and that always makes things a little more surreal. Flashes without sound, insubstantial - not even a drop of rain or a rustle of branches in wind. Scientifically, I knew that the lack of thunder probably meant that high winds were blowing near the site of the lightning strikes, messing with the sound. Logically, I realized that in a big city, echoes are more likely to get lost en route. Childishly, I found the whole thing insanely creepy and settled in to watch the storm play out.
It was dark, so clouds were only visible in the silent bursts of light. Long strips of black on darker black, piled up across the backdrop of a city's starless night. Too precise, arithmetical - perfectly straight lines don't suit nature at all, and my constant stream of chatter turned to that topic for some time.
The lightning turned jagged, cloud-to-cloud ("approximately 80% of all lightning passes from cloud to cloud and doesn't come in contact with the ground, you know"). The clouds were hanging low, but not too low, and they were moving fast, but not too fast, and the rain was finally starting to fall. Somewhere in the distance, the silence was broken and thunder grumbled impatiently, swept away by the gusting wind.
Radar imagery showed an impossible blotch of precipitation bearing down on the city. "Hailstones mess with radar echoes, give you unrealistically high precip readings." The raindrops were huge, spraying into smaller droplets as they hit the streetlights and the pavement. The lightning was closer, and the too-straight lines of clouds looked as though they'd been smeared by some giant, greasy hand.
My Gran's little brother was killed by lightning - he was standing inside their farmhouse, looking out the window at the time. Stay away from windows when there's lightning - keep an eye on the skies but don't get too close.
I was perched on my bedside table with my face against the glass, trying to pick out the angle of the rainfall and counting off the tornado warning signs I'd memorized as a kid. Rain spattered on the window, messing with my estimation - near horizontal, at least. The clouds were either moving impossibly fast or they were much closer to the ground than I'd anticipated. I spelled out a plan in my head, figured out what would have to happen for me to turn around and bundle everyone down to the basement. Was there a crawlspace beneath the stairs? Would there be enough room for all three of us and the cat? In this mess, would I even see a tornado coming?
It sounded like the long-delayed crash of thunder when the hail finally arrived - nickels and dimes jolting off the ground, a fitting soundtrack to the violence in the sky. The wind picked up and I jumped away from the window involuntarily as hailstones thudded into the glass. Just beyond the streaks of slush and water on the window, beyond the dark swirl of the hail in the sky, I could see the massive tree in the neighbour's yard swinging, creaking, bending. Meteorology comes from the Greek, archaically describing the study of things that fall from the sky. Over the years, meteoric came to mean "transiently brilliant".
The hail stopped, the rain slowed, and the lightning darted off into the distance. Some things are cliche for a reason: the storm ended as suddenly as it began. Eerie white clouds stood out, bleak and stark, against the layers of thicker cloud. Shapes, like you'd see lying on your back in a field on a warm summer day, played across the rapidly-changing skyscape. A gash of a grin across the expressionless sky.
In the distance, almost as an afterthought, a long stream of clouds spun briefly before settling back into a fluffy heap, racing in the wake of the storm.
I guess that's what they call dramatic renewal of purpose, eh?
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no subject
Date: 2007-06-21 08:45 am (UTC)Epic.
*grin*
no subject
Date: 2007-06-21 05:02 pm (UTC)Then again, virtually anything seems epic at two in the morning.
I fluffed up my pillow - somewhere, the theme from "Mission: Impossible" was playing.I adore that icon, by the way. I'm gonna overhaul mine and make sure Nine gets some representation this time *hangs head in shame*.
no subject
Date: 2007-06-21 05:21 pm (UTC)Brushing my teeth was intense, especially with the boom box blasting that theme... I don't think I made my family too happy with it at two and all... *shrug*That icon = my favorite. *huggles* I love it when I can find a good reason to use it! And I'm sure Nine understands. *patpat* I mean, Ten's *really* cute. Just look at him! It's like he has mind-controlly powers that leave us no other choice.
(Also, regarding our EMAIL OF POWER! (TM): It's coming! I have a few interviews this afternoon (and I'm trying to finish up The West Wing so I can squee properly (and trust me, there shall be squee!)), but this evening? EMAIL OF POWER (TM) time! *nodnod*)
no subject
Date: 2007-06-21 08:28 pm (UTC)(I just realized today that, in huge letters over where my lunchtime practice room lives, it says "WEST WING". Heehee!)
I was going to go in search of all new icons a while back, but I also wanted to install GIMP and do a couple of batches myself before filling up all the spots. *wince* Not that my icons are gonna be any good, but you know. Just in case I luck out. However, knowing me that's gonna take forever, so I should just steal other people's creations instead. *nodnod*
no subject
Date: 2007-06-22 07:38 am (UTC)*patpat* Such has happened to me many-a-times. I wanted an icon, but I couldn't find *just* the one I wanted, so I tried to make them myself. (You know my odd liking for Wilson/Cameron! Their icons are hard to find!) Alas, my attempts were... sad, at best. So I've stuck with snagging from others instead.
But, you know, you have talent. *patpat* I'm sure you can pull it off.
Oo, speaking of, I need West Wing icons! *begins hunt*
no subject
Date: 2007-06-21 10:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-22 07:34 am (UTC)Man, that guy can *write*. Even the episodes that weren't as good as others were simply brilliant. *jealousy!*
no subject
Date: 2010-08-14 10:39 pm (UTC)Also, the being scared of thunderstorms? I totally know where you're coming from. I'm a sailing-ship geek who's afraid of oceans. o_O