The tornado siren blares its shrill warning. The weather radar displays an ominous blob of orange approaching from the northwest. It materializes in the sky above my city, though not in the colorful green and yellow shown on the radar. This storm arrives in shades of gray. The sky darkens and the wind rises. Heavy rain begins falling. Five minutes later, the wind abates to a humid stillness, the rain stops, and the sun pokes from behind clouds in the western sky, beaming on treetops and casting shadows into yards and streets. It is a little scene that lately has become a daily occurrence. I like these afternoon showers. They water my yard, wash out the gutters, and cool the air from a toasty 90° to a tolerable 80°. Then they move on. The show is over for a while. I’d like the rain to take tomorrow off so I can mow my yard, but it’s out of my hands. The rain deities will decide if I can mow tomorrow. If my grass gets too tall, it’s on them.
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