A perfect storm
Apr. 4th, 2006 01:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
qatarperegrineWe had the most beautiful thunderstorm last night.
For a moment, when I stepped outside the apartment building, I couldn't work out what was happening in the sky. It looked like a nighttime bombing raid from a war movie: sheet lightning, striking over and over again almost continuously. (There's a picture in today's Peninsula: Weather plays truant. And, while I'm linking, Jess's description of the storm is here.)
We stood and watched it for several minutes, and I don't think more than a second ever passed without at least one lightning strike. And yet, because it was so far off and so high up, it was eerily silent and still in the compound. (Justin said afterwards that he'd never seen such a cliched "calm before the storm.")
Lulled by the calm, I suppose, we decided to go to the gym anyway. We were only there about 15 minutes before we heard the storm hit and decided to run home. Again, walking outside was a bewildering experience. The wind was blowing very hard and filling the air with sand; at the same time, rain was starting to pound down. Or pound around, really, since it was being whipped around hard by the wind. The rain was close enough to horizontal that it poured in around doors and windows in the clubhouse (and our living room!).
As we ran home from the gym, Justin suggested we stay close to buildings to avoid being hit by lightning. This completely panicked me, of course, since normally I'm the one who comes up with improbable disaster scenarios while Justin reassures me that they're not realistic.
When we got home we sat in the dark and watched the storm pass overhead. The forked lightning was amazing. I think it was more spectacular than any fireworks show I've ever seen.
For a moment, when I stepped outside the apartment building, I couldn't work out what was happening in the sky. It looked like a nighttime bombing raid from a war movie: sheet lightning, striking over and over again almost continuously. (There's a picture in today's Peninsula: Weather plays truant. And, while I'm linking, Jess's description of the storm is here.)
We stood and watched it for several minutes, and I don't think more than a second ever passed without at least one lightning strike. And yet, because it was so far off and so high up, it was eerily silent and still in the compound. (Justin said afterwards that he'd never seen such a cliched "calm before the storm.")
Lulled by the calm, I suppose, we decided to go to the gym anyway. We were only there about 15 minutes before we heard the storm hit and decided to run home. Again, walking outside was a bewildering experience. The wind was blowing very hard and filling the air with sand; at the same time, rain was starting to pound down. Or pound around, really, since it was being whipped around hard by the wind. The rain was close enough to horizontal that it poured in around doors and windows in the clubhouse (and our living room!).
As we ran home from the gym, Justin suggested we stay close to buildings to avoid being hit by lightning. This completely panicked me, of course, since normally I'm the one who comes up with improbable disaster scenarios while Justin reassures me that they're not realistic.
When we got home we sat in the dark and watched the storm pass overhead. The forked lightning was amazing. I think it was more spectacular than any fireworks show I've ever seen.
