The lighting strike must have been very close. When the thunderclap woke me with a start, the drawn drapes were still bright with the flash, then went dark. I could hear hail clattering down even as the peal of thunder reverberated. When I pulled back the drapes, the window revealed a world covered in glistening white hailstones. The hailstorm soon subsided, but the rain has continued. The pavements have been washed clean, but the lawn is still covered in white patches. The thunder has continued, too, resounding through the gray sky, but I have seen no more lightning. Neither have I sen any evidence of that strike which woke me. No branches are missing from any nearby trees, no utility pole shows any damage. But, after two hours, the rain has diminished, and I hear birds chirping and chattering as they fly through the chill air and peck at the wet ground. And the glimpse of the dogwood tree across the street which I get from my window reveals that the leaves are at last turning red. Gray and red go nice together.