The Storm

I love it when it rains in the desert.

From where I was standing, a V-shaped section of the sky was visible through the trees. Standing on the second floor, when the wind blew through the trees, I could reach out and touch their leaves. It was quite a vantage point! The sky, normally black and back-lit by stars was brighter than twilight, lit up from the millions of bulbs on the strip. It was light enough outside to read a book, yet it was beyond midnight.

Staring into the storm, I waited. Suddenly a fork of lightning divides the sky and I see what appears to be as close as the trees a brilliant white streak. I jumped. Used to low-flying severe storms in the Midwest, I expected to hear the report instantaneously.

1-one thousand, 2-one thousand, 3-one thousand ... no trace of sound
8-one thousand, 9-one thousand, 10-one thousand ... still nothing!
14-one thousand, 15-one thousand, 16-one thousand ... was I ever going to hear anything?

Then, nearly 20 seconds after the flash, far off in the distance, there's a faint rumble. Over the next 5 seconds it repeats at increasing levels of loudness until finally, overhead there is a giant BOOM! that makes my hair stand on end.

And what happened next, I did not also expect... the boom just heard was then replayed over and over as it echoes to and from one side of the valley to the next. If one listened carefully, one could discern the topography of the land by timing the echoes and noting their relative loudness. First comes the report from due West- mountains just a few miles from that direction. Then from the South-West. The report from the East - still impressive - sounded tired, as if it had to travel much further and with greater difficulty. Then finally, the report from the South-East, the furthest range from here. Deep with reverberations that made the windows rattle.

Then the echos of the echoes began to report, and just as the many harmonics of a simple tone combine into a rich sound, so to did the echoes creates a percussive symphony that endured for nearly 40 seconds... fading into what sounded exactly like a car driving by, blaring the beat of a hip-hop song from a speaker tuned for too much bass.

Thump de thump. Thump de thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

Then silence.

I can't believe the lightning bolt, as big as any I had every seen, was 4 miles away. I thought it was right on top of us... perhaps it was, just 4 miles up?

The wind howls and screams, the rain comes harder, and the cycle repeats with stunning regularity. With each report and its symphony of echos, I feel like a dolphin, able to map out the space I'm in with using just my ears. I can visualize where the storm is over the valley and which direction it is moving.

The rain continues to fall; a new sight for me in the dessert. I watch a mini-flood occur just a few feet down the street, at an intersection of storm drains. Just as the rain waters from Africa spill onto the land and flood entire regions of parched land, so to did these waters slowly gather around the edges of the street until both sides were united and the road was covered with a mini-river.

Next... a sudden calm. I wait.

The sprinklers turn on.

The rain seems aware of the silliness below and decides to move on, leaving me alone once more.