It’s raining. Afternoon storms are such a welcome respite from the humid oven of the summer. Just when you think you simply cannot take another minute of the heat, or at the very least you absolutely cannot step out of the conditioned air, the sky grows dark and in the distance you hear a clap of thunder. Next thing you know the skies open and every living thing around you breathes the tiniest sigh of relief. Without admitting to any sort of hallucinations, I will tell you that sometimes I do think the rocks and roads sigh their appreciation, too.

The magnolia leaves outside my window are quaking and I hear the rain being driven forward in sheets by the wind. It’s not the sound of  wind blowing, but rain blowing. A hiss more than a whisper, then a pounding against the window pane.  I open the window to hear the thunder and of course the window sticks when I try to shut it again. As per usual in my 100 year old house the power is flickering on and off.  Southern decrepitude is charming only when you aren’t in danger of wetting your pile of clean laundry or suffocating without AC.