Monday, March 06, 2006
The Storm
Saturday was a hot and stuffy day. As it wore on into the afternoon, it became one of the hottest and stuffiest we have ever known. It was almost spooky. It felt as if the world had stopped. Everyone must have been crashed out, incapable of thought, let alone work, just as we were. No traffic noise. No children playing. No sounds from other flats. Even the birds stopped singing. Just silence.
Then, late afternoon, came the thunderstorm. We have seen a good few, but this was violent. And the surprise was that the sights and sounds that dominated and even frightened were not the flashes and crashes from overhead, but the lashing wind and precipitation at ground level. The hail really stole the thunder. It was hammering on our normally sheltered balcony windows and roaring on the corrugated metal of the gymnasium next door. Ice and spray was flying upwards off the sloping roof of the house opposite. The wind constantly twisted and turned: we couldn’t take photos easily out of any of our windows, as the driving rain and hail seemed to be hitting all of them and the camera. The hail stones were the largest we have ever seen, and very much pure water crystals: transparent, with no air bubbles. Until we looked closely at one and saw a six-sided, air-born structure it was as if someone was pelting the back of the flat with half-melted ice cubes from the freezer.
And then it stopped. Trees stripped of any loose leaves. The ineffectual plastic sheeting on the side of the gymnasium shredded. And the heaviness gone. I would like to know how much the temperature dropped in half and hour, but it was as effective as dropping four ice-cubes into a warm coke. We strolled out in the evening through the silt-laden streets to our local pizza place, with Andrew wondering if he should have worn jeans rather than shorts, in the cool of the night. A delicious evening, and a delicious meal.
Our waitress, Rosie, was more chatty than we have ever known her. How we all love to talk about the weather!
Saturday was a hot and stuffy day. As it wore on into the afternoon, it became one of the hottest and stuffiest we have ever known. It was almost spooky. It felt as if the world had stopped. Everyone must have been crashed out, incapable of thought, let alone work, just as we were. No traffic noise. No children playing. No sounds from other flats. Even the birds stopped singing. Just silence.
Then, late afternoon, came the thunderstorm. We have seen a good few, but this was violent. And the surprise was that the sights and sounds that dominated and even frightened were not the flashes and crashes from overhead, but the lashing wind and precipitation at ground level. The hail really stole the thunder. It was hammering on our normally sheltered balcony windows and roaring on the corrugated metal of the gymnasium next door. Ice and spray was flying upwards off the sloping roof of the house opposite. The wind constantly twisted and turned: we couldn’t take photos easily out of any of our windows, as the driving rain and hail seemed to be hitting all of them and the camera. The hail stones were the largest we have ever seen, and very much pure water crystals: transparent, with no air bubbles. Until we looked closely at one and saw a six-sided, air-born structure it was as if someone was pelting the back of the flat with half-melted ice cubes from the freezer.
And then it stopped. Trees stripped of any loose leaves. The ineffectual plastic sheeting on the side of the gymnasium shredded. And the heaviness gone. I would like to know how much the temperature dropped in half and hour, but it was as effective as dropping four ice-cubes into a warm coke. We strolled out in the evening through the silt-laden streets to our local pizza place, with Andrew wondering if he should have worn jeans rather than shorts, in the cool of the night. A delicious evening, and a delicious meal.
Our waitress, Rosie, was more chatty than we have ever known her. How we all love to talk about the weather!
# posted by Andrew and Cora @ 6:40:00 am 
