Here Comes the Rain Again

As appeared in the Albuquerque Journal Rio Rancho section 8/27/11

Everyone is talking about the thunderstorm last Wednesday night just as much as the people on the east coast are talking about their earthquake. No surprise there, rain in New Mexico is almost as rare as an earthquake in Virginia, isn’t it?

Our storms of late remind me of this story I first told you about in July 2006 during that summer’s monsoons.
Being from the Midwest, I was raised with weather. After spending many years under serene Californian skies, I grew to really miss these wonders of nature.

My grandmother taught me, my brother and sister how to predict the weather by the way the leaves on the trees blew in the wind. I thought that was the neatest thing. I didn’t have to wait for the radio reports on the transistor anymore.

We would watch the storms roll in off Lake Huron. “Alright, its time to get out of the water and come inside NOW” my mother would shout out to us. “Why?” was always our inane response as we would surface from the 62 degree waters of Saginaw Bay. It wasn’t but minutes once we were inside the back door, all three of us kids huddled and dripping on the 2’ x 3’ mat that the first lightening strike would hit.

One lazy summer day while looking for things to keep themselves out of trouble, my brother and his buddy built a fort on the beach. These two twelve year old general contractors scrounged up some old rusty nails and hammered my grandmother’s wool blankets into a fallen birch tree branch. In its horizontal position, the limb made a perfect master beam for the tent. They secured the bottom of the blankets in the sand by strategically placing rocks around the edges. It was as cool as my puka shell necklace wearing brother.

With afternoon came that day’s thunderstorm. Chris begged my mother to stay in the tent during the storm. “Why not, we’ll be IN the tent, we will be safe”, he argued. “Besides, I looked at the sky, this storm is just going to skirt us” he reported in his best meteorologist-in-training voice. Being ten years old, I thought he had a great point and couldn’t see how anyone would disagree with this ingenious idea. In fact, I asked if I could go too.

“No one is going to be in that tent when this storm hits” insisted my mother. End of conversation.

The leaves started to blow “that” way. The storm had arrived. Then one blinding flash and deafening clap of thunder hit simultaneously.

“Do you think it hit Klepser’s cottage?” my little sister, the youngest meteorologist-in-training gingerly inquired. Couldn’t tell, but no one was going outside until Mom gave the all-clear.

In our after-storm survey of the immediate beach area, we came upon the infamous tent. It was in a heap on the sand. The lightening had struck the tent dead on and all the nails that had been so meticulously pounded into the trunk were now red hot, strewn amongst the debris. The master beam that had held the structure so safely together was split in two lying on top of the blankets. The once thought safe haven was practically smoldering with the after affects of the lightening bolt. Mom was right once again.

The advice never goes out of style: When the weather is threatening, stay inside.

Quote of the Week: “Here Comes the Rain Again” by the Eurythmics.