A solarized look at the rain out my front door. Or else you’ve just had some kind of mushroom and your mind is moving low.
It’s stopped raining but nature treated us to quite a rain exposition during the last hour or so.
The rain fell hard, fast and voluminous — like a fluent and freefalling airborne division of water molecules ready to invade hostile territory. “Land Hoooooooooo,” cried Gen. T. Storm “Raindrop” Squall leading his troops in an attack on the terra firma.
Accompanying the rainfall airborne division was the booming artillery of thunder and flashing bolts of lightning from the light brigade … Oh, to hell with the martial references. It rained like hell if hell could rain. It rained cats and dogs and sheep and buffalo and Madonna and Jennifer Aniston and Jennifer Lopez and Juan Valdez and A. Martinez and the rain king of the Solvent Republic. It was the Mobil-Exxon-Wal-Mart-Walt Disney-Halliburton-Martha Stewart of rain. It rained like a Saturday night if easy was like a Sunday morning. It was the Sultan of Shower. It was Bo Knows Rain. It rained like like a butterfly that was stung by a bee.
It was wet.