storm's brewing

I’ve come to recognize these storms as a sort of precursor to the end of summer. I only notice them around this time of year, but that could just be me. 

first, It starts to cool down. Only about five to ten degrees though because of the humidity. (when i was in Mexico, it would go from a sizzling 110, to a cool 60 degrees in about half an hour during a storm)

twenty minutes after the last time you looked outside, the sky will have changed from sunshine blue to an ominous grey. The clouds begin to pile up into a dark mass, and you suddenly understand the meaning of the phrase, “there’s a storm brewing.” It starts to get darker- as if it seven in the evening and not merely four in the afternoon.

the wind picks up, whisking along in it’s feathery arms any stray leaves and twigs that stand in its path. The trees behind my house sway back and forth like they will at any moment uproot themselves from the very ground in which they are planted.

large drops of rain start hitting the ground- slowly at first as the scent of petrichor fills the air- and then faster and faster until there’s a torrent of water falling from the dark skies. 

Then comes the thunder. And, oh, does it thunder. The deep rumbling bass shakes the house, and then thin lines of lightning dart across the sky. 

and before you know it, it’s stopped just as soon as it started.