Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Summer Thunderstorm

[image from google]

There is thunder rumbling down the mountains, thunder in the valley  this July afternoon: a summer thunderstorm, which takes me back to my childhood. My Grandma loved a good thunderstorm. She and I would sit in the back porch of her tiny cottage on Christleton Avenue, in Kelowna, she in the Big Brown Chair, me across the room, coveting it.  (There has never been another chair as comfortable in my entire life).

The window would be  open, the better to hear and smell the storm, and we exchanged smiles of wonder as the thunder rumbled and reverberated, and the lightning cracked, sounding like the heavens would open any minute.

I remember the metallic smell in the air, just before the first rain fell.  I once swam in the lake during one of those storms, likely not a good idea, but no one thought anything of it at the time.

We lived in a valley full of apple orchards, along a ninety mile long lake, surrounded by what I called the Big Blue Hills. I live in a valley now,  ringed by mountains, at the other end of my life. Now I'm a Grandma and, as the thunder rumbles and the first fresh-smelling drops of rain begin to fall, I am taken back and back to my childhood, a full circle moment, with many years and miles between summer storms. But there is still the delight of the storm, and the memory of those long-ago storms, shared with such conspiratorial delight by me and my Grandma.


  1. What a wonderful trip down memory lane for you. Sharing magic moments like that is what matters most of all when it all comes down to it. I hope you make new ones with your own grandchildren for them to remember, themselves one day.

  2. Just minutes ago, I was remembering my Grandmother, and cherishing the many moments I spent with her. I love this write!

  3. I love this story, Sherry! Thunder storms are among my favourite things in the world. It's a wonder I didn't grow up afraid of mother always pushed us under the table for safety if they happened when she was around. Of course, left by ourselves, we stood in the open doorway the lightning wide-eyed with wonderment...


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