Thunderstorms

I love thunderstorms. I always have. In Runnemede, as I've mentioned before, you could tell when a thunderstorm was coming, even if the sky showed no evidence of an in-coming storm, just by the smell in the air.

Out here in Northern Kentucky, Southern Ohio -- the two places we've lived for the past 35 years -- I have never smelled that smell. Why? I don't know.

I think it had something to do with the wind flows over the Delaware River, which was just west of us, and the storms came from there, and frankly the Delaware didn't smell too great back then. It's been cleaned up a lot since I was a girl. But, the last time I was in Runnemede, I was sitting in church, and I smelled that smell, and sure enough, later that afternoon, there was a thunderstorm.

Now, out here we've lived just north of the Ohio River, and now we live just south of the Ohio River. Storms out here can come from any direction -- north, south, east (yes, we've had them back up and give us a tornado from the wrong direction), and west. So, I should, if it was the river smell that was causing the "storms coming" odor, have smelled it. But I never have.

The last storm that went through was rife with tornadoes -- none touched down where we live, but just south of us, they passed through -- not more than 5 miles as the crow flies. And the lightning was constant, thus the thunder was non-ending. Very few of the storms we have here are like this one. In fact, the TV weather station said that this was a once-a-year type storm. I only remember one other storm like the one just past since we've lived out here in tornado territory.

Now, while the sun is not out, it has brightened up some, but it's still hot and humid, and the storms are to continue through tomorrow. Apparently the weather front has stalled over top of us.

I remember one Memorial Day weekend, when the children were younger, we spend a weekend camping out, and that whole weekend we put up with storm after storm after storm. They just kept coming up the Ohio River and dumped on us the whole time.

Finally, I gave up and told Alan I was heading home, I'd see him when it was either time for the camping experience to end (it was a church affair), or the sun came out which ever came first. Well, I guess Alan had had enough as well, because he and the children and I went home that night, left our camping gear at the campground, and went back the next day, after a dry night at home in our beds. Our gear was soaked, of course, but was drying on bushes where some thoughtful church friends had put the stuff.

And people wonder why I don't like camping!