Winds of Change

I was about to head into town when I paused at the front door. The air smelled different; denser, greener. I looked up just as a thick grey storm cloud swallowed up the friendly sun. As I stepped out the air became moist with tiny invisible rain drops. Hm. Weather is hard for me to predict here and I strained to see what the sky in the distance foretold. I couldn’t see through the trees so I climbed up to the balcony. The nearby sky was a swirl of white and grey, with only a few blue patches in the distance. But which way were the clouds moving? I couldn’t tell. They seemed stationary. A light breeze had kicked up and fluttered the palm fronds leftward. I looked right. A pots and pans crash of thunder collided above me and I could hear the metallic on-pour of rain in the distance. I still wasn’t sure. Was it moving my way? Would it pass quickly? I looked into the neighbor’s yard and saw a cat emerge from behind a tree. How was it acting? It took a few hesitant steps forward and turned its nose up to observe the air. Another slow half a step forward and it dashed back behind the tree. Hm. Bad sign? It was definitely raining lightly by this time, but the clouds were still only threatening. I looked out over the town as the hiss of wind and clamor of thunder whooshed through the trees, taking with it the sounds of the city.
The smell, the sounds, the air, all seemed to swirl together and I breathed in deep, swirling with it, feeling the coming change. The rain picked up a tad and I bailed down the balcony to the covered patio to continue watching. I couldn’t see the clouds anymore, but I could still hear the rain coming, like the shaking of big aluminum sheets used for sound effects. I watched absent-mindedly as light, causal drops of rain hit the stone wall sideways and darkened the stone in scattered spots. Like an artist throwing paint. Then, suddenly, in an equally artistic fury, the wall exploded with a splash of thick droplettes. The air picked of energy and the atmosphere became frenzied as the rains raced down in an untempered waterfall. The ground turned bright orange and glossy with wet as the drops fell hard and jumped up inches in the air. Big, fast drops plunked off the warped white railing of the balcony in all sorts of directions. The wheelbarrow seemed to be emitting sparks of water and the wall took on a quick staccato pace as the notes hit and then bounced off again. The sky continue to rumble and a loud explosion came from somewhere behind the house. I guess I would have to stay for the performance. Even if I was willing to brave the now muddy, slippery roads and the mosquitoes that would surely be swarming, I wasn’t likely to find any of the people I needed to visit with; Ugandans are deathly afraid of water and disappear inside at the first sight of rain. Wonder how long it’ll last…