The Tempest

This afternoon, about the fiercest squall I've ever seen blew in from the westward. There was a swift black front advancing like a war in heaven, and before I could shelter properly, it all went Hokusai. Great wave on wave of storm. Poignards of lightning, broadsides of rain: not coming down but sideways, and upwards from the pavement, knee deep. And hail! edged hail, that sounded on the awning I was huddled under like a hotel ice machine. Lethal stuff. I was only half-sheltered, with my arms full of dissolving bags of summer fruit, but I did risk my phone long enough to snap the hailstones, which were marvellous.





I hoped for a rainbow, but saw none.

Nine