The storm came in from the north, massed battleship gray clouds advancing as the sun retreated. For a while, bright rays shone from behind their forward ranks, and in the western sky, smaller white clouds basked in sunlight on a pale blue blanket. Across the canyon to the east, as the world fell into storm shadow, The upper third of the ridge glowed in lingering light, a rampart of bright green trees. It must have been raining there already-- sun showers-- as the air above the trees glittered with a particular brightness. As I hurried home from my walk, the day rapidly darkened to an eerie dimness, and the blue in the west vanished. As I reached my door, the first raindrops fell, and within a few minutes the downpour was drumming on the roof and echoing in the chimney. It only lasted an hour or so, and the clouds opened a window to the west large enough to let a bit of sunset through, and illuminate all the bright drops clinging to the bushes and grass; a brief glimpse of the refreshed world, before night fell.