We have always enjoyed the spectacle of thunderstorms.  The sound and the fury, the lashing of windows by heavy streaming rain, watching as rain gathered into swift puddles that swirled and eddied down the length of a street, the darkness that descends, the drama of it all.  I can recall, as a child, how wonderful it all seemed, not at all frightening, and likely that was because my father demonstrated to me how much he too enjoyed such symbols of nature's majesty.

Yesterday afternoon after the hurly-burly of the usual Friday's cleaning, cooking/baking, shopping, Riley and I were nestled comfortably together on the glider on our deck, he snoozing, me reading the newspapers.  We heard the lilting loveliness of the cardinal celebrating life in spring, and breathed the heady perform of lilacs coming into their own. 

And then we heard the far-off rumble of thunder in the remote distance, promising to drop by for a visit.  Environment Canada had issued a violent thunderstorm alert for the afternoon, so this was hardly surprising, although the sun was still warm and visible.  Neither Button nor Riley ever evinced anything remotely resembling alarm in the midst of a violent thunderstorm.  Not even when we've been caught out while one was occurring.  Just another manifestation of nature doing what she does.

We moved into the house after another half-hour of awaiting the arrival of the storm, when the blue of the sky had evolved to dark grey thunderheads, and the claps became sharper and closer with regularity.  It's like welcoming an old friend, actually, whose excesses of humour one forgives because the friend brings so much in the way of companionship.

The rain is like that; it kisses the parched earth and brings to life, nurturing all growing things.  And it invariably breaks the gasping hold of heat waves.  This storm, like so many others, was welcome. 

We've experienced storms like this while paddling our canoe in the middle of a broad lake, having to hastily pull in to shore and seek shelter under our upturned canoe.  We've watched a storm unfold while alpine camping high on a mountain side in British Columbia, finding shelter then inside our tent.  Similarly while camping in Algonquin Park.  A thunderstorm that hit suddenly kept us from making the summit of a mountain in New Hampshire when we were but ten minutes from the top.  We shivered and sheltered ourselves in our tent while circuiting the Bowron Lakes in B.C.

A young couple in Ottawa yesterday was not quite so fortunate.  They were bicycling together when the storm struck and they sought shelter under a tree.  Unfortunately that particular tree was hit by lightning.  The young man was taken by paramedics to hospital, in serious condition.