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Weather, Or Not [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]

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Just Passing Through [Jun. 23rd, 2003|10:33 pm]
The afternoon sky was home to dozens of isolated clumps of puffy white clouds, drifting through blue serenity, the embodiment of daydreams. Dense gray hovered in the northeast. I sat in my room with the headphones on, so I didn't hear the rising breeze, but I felt the cooling and saw the curtains billow in from the window. The day swiftly turned gray as the wind drew the denser clouds over the ridge, and I saw the darkened leaves of the mulberry tree waving wildly. For the first time in days, I couldn't smell the scent of jasmine. Instead, there was the unmistakable smell of wet pavement. I took off the headphones and heard the furious rustling of leaves and the rushing of wind and the spattering of raindrops. In the west, patches of blue lined with silver and white remained, but here everything had darkened. I went out and listened to the wind in the pines, which was like a sustained crashing of surf on the beach. Dislodged pine cones clattered down the slick, black street, and shredded leaves spiraled through the chilled air. It was quite splendid. I expected thunder and lightning, but none came.

After about an hour, the blue patches in the west began to expand, the wind died down and the rain ceased. The late sun emerged and all the oak trees became explosions of bright green against the crowding slate of the eastern sky. The storm rushed away, shadows rolling across the rumpled mountains. The last light picked out bright raindrops clinging to the shiny needles at the tops of the pines. In the dusk, a few evening birds sang, but the waterlogged crickets remained silent. The dark lawn was littered with fallen rose petals. Now, in the moonless night, if I listen carefully I can make out the croaking of happy frogs along the replenished streams, and the quiet trickle from the downspout. The scent of jasmine has now been replaced with the sharp odor of wet pine. The recent heat is forgotten. For a few hours, at least, it was spring again, passing through the early summer day.