Stormchasing

When the Midwestern Spring slips into Summer, the weather can get a little rough. Cool air from Canada carried by drenching Pacific storms roll into Iowa from the northwest and meets up with warm moist air snaking up the Mississippi from the Gulf of Mexico. These conflicting atmospheric juggernauts collide over the open, flat plains of the heartland. Without mountains or Great Lakes to moderate the effect, the storms swirl and drive up massive charges of electricity, much like shuffling your feet on a deep wool carpet. The end result is, needless to say, spectacular.

Yesterday, we had ideal conditions for a constant, repeated string of squall lines, swirling winds, and "pop-up" thunderstorms. The sky was so impressive; anvil shaped thunderheads dotted the horizon in every direction. The sunlight was bright, then dim, then dappled, then absent, and then bright again, all in the span of a few minutes. The weather was way too cool to be wasted on sitting around the house. We loaded up the car with the whole family, including sisters Denali and Skye, and set out down the road to enjoy nature's big show. We drove through bands of rain showers, basked in glorious displays of jacob's ladders floating down from the heavens, and marveled at the clouds ephemerally painted on the ever-changing celestial canvas, then erased, then painted again, then erased.

More later- I need to eat now . . . . .