They really do exist. Even with all the climate changes – or whatever you want to label them as – over the last few years, there is no disputing that we still get incredibly powerful April showers.
This weekend as I sat at my work desk, I rolled up my sleeves, sat back and smiled as the sun warmed my face. Within a matter of minutes, the room turned to charcoal along with the sky. The sun faded to the lightest outline of a circle and the wind crept up, paused a moment, then blustered and swirled around the building.
Leaping up from my desk I slammed the window shut, curtains bellowing and catching around my frantic arms. Then the rain came. A heavy burst slamming onto the rooftops and the street below me. Pedestrians ran for shelter, wipers switched on in unison and the ground became a river. Drains slurped up the water as the sky hurled it down.
Then there was peace again. The sun yellowed, the sky brightened and I pulled the window open to a new world.
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