Here it is 4:48 a.m. and I cannot sleep.
As I lay in bed, my eyes closed, breathing deeply, my rest is interrupted every thirty seconds by bright flashes of light. Moments later the sky rumbles and roars. The noise rips the night.
Occasionally, the house trembles.
Rain has fallen twice during the morning, creating a cacophony of pitter-patting outside the bedroom window, in the leaves, on the awnings. The smell of fresh fire — or is it old ashes in the chimney? — makes me nervous.
Rain now falls for a third time tonight, heavily: the drops are thick and wet, popping on the awning.
Thunderstorms are a rare enough occurrence in Portland — though I remember they used to be more common — but I cannot recall another night thunderstorm. Can you?
I wish I had a camera ready.
I wish my car windows were rolled up.
Mostly, though, I'm glad that I already feel well-rested (despite having fallen asleep at eleven). My alarm goes off in forty-five minutes, and I doubt I'll sleep much until then.
The thunder has subsided now and all that remains is the gentle trickle of a light rainfall, the babble of water easing itself through cracks and gutters as it gurgles to the ground.
On this day at foldedspace.org
2005 — Even MORE Bird Photos Can you tell I've been taking more photographs lately? I'm carrying my camera everywhere I go, and as a result this has turned into more of a photoblog than a storyblog. Sorry.
2003 — Symmetry In which I reuse old photos for Photo Friday.
Ryan woke up at 2:30 this morning...so I was awake for the beginning of the storm and the rain. I had forgotten how much more powerful a thunderstorm can seem at night. I laid in bed for a while before I went back to sleep and watched my room light up followed by the most angry thunder I had heard in a long time.
I like thunderstorms.