Storm watching

We're right underneath a thunderstorm. The sky lights up and then a beat and a half later the thunder rumbles towards us, crackling at first but loud and bass as it seems to roll over the house, shaking the floors a little, impossibly loud for a second before it moves on. And then the rain batters the windows, the roof. First it was hail, rivalling the thunder, now it's just spilling rain. It all sounds so angry. Impotent raging.

 Thankfully, it is impotent here, and the most I have to fear is a wet bathroom floor. Sometimes strong wind drives the water into the roof and it drips down the cord of the fan and pools on the floor. No one's been electrocuted yet.

I go upstairs to watch out a corner of the window, and check on the kids. My boy lies oblivious, snug, after finally falling asleep. Olivia is tucked in, light on, immersed in her DS, throwing me an irritable 'what?' when I check she's ok.

As I look out the window, catch the lightening, I see my neighbour standing smoking outside his bungalow door, watching the sky. The smoke he exhales expands and expands out into the rainy dark and orange night, caught in the house light.

We're storm watching.

I hear hail again. This is strange time of year for hail.