On Thursday, there was a brief moment where the heavens flirted with the idea of unleashing their wrath upon us with cool, soothing rain. More of a tease, really, since what rain that did fall was short, quick, and to the point. Oh, there was some cool air (for which I’m thankful), but it was short-lived. Oh, so short-lived.
Anyway, whenever there’s a sudden and severe storm on the horizon, I do what everyone else does: I go outside to take photos, because why not? What’s with this preoccupation with safety, anyway? (I’m being sarcastic.) Seriously, though, I don’t recommend going out once the show’s started, but in this case – before the lightning and thunder – we were treated to an ominous gathering of clouds.
At the risk of sounding arrogant, I really like this photo, but I don’t know why. This is one of six that I took, but it’s the only one that stands out for me. For whatever reason, there’s something here to which I can relate.
Am I a bad person because I like storms? I’ll need to ponder that . . .