There is a line of weather to the north of us that is moving at a southeast slant and we are under a thunderstorm warning – the severe kind. I can feel it coming, the way you can anticipate the end of tiring walk or seemingly endless chore. I know that we have had a some tree experience with storms of late but I still crave the physical feel of the storm.

Sometimes, however, it just dissipates or heads a wee bit in a different direction and you feel like the embodiment of dozens of rubber bands stretched to the breaking point, but never past that point. You have to gather yourself back in slowly. I remember when we lived in Ames that would happen – and because we had lots of prairie storms, the percentages produced more than just one or two of those stifled sneeze weather moments.

I distinctly recall standing at the end of the parking lot which reached to our unit – 162C – and realizing the release of a zesty storm was going to give way to continuing sultry. I know that word is an adjective, but when it sits on  your shoulders for a number of days, it transforms into a heavy, free-standing noun.

Ah, the sky is getting darker; the wind is picking up; I have checked to see that my computer is not plugged in. More wind . . . dry leaves are blowing and bushes are dancing around. I could go out and just stand in the finally changing weather, but, of course, there is the ZAP factor.

It is very dim in here now and I can see the silhouette  of the ceiling fan against the white ceiling. THUNDER. WE HAVE THUNDER. And, now, the rain, horizontal at times and buffeted by gusts of wind. Heavier now . . . and carrying the smell of rural soil and crops. Fresh. So much better than the condensation that clung to the windows this weekend. Whoever or whatever is out there is soaked. And I am snuggled in a comfy corner at the Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse.

Is this a literal feng shui moment?