We were sitting in my apartment and the sky outside turned yellow.
We go outside and see that yes, in fact, it was yellow. Not the mellow kind. Rather, the smoker's teeth kind.
I get online to my trusty weather.com and I look at the hour by hour forecast and it says that it will be clear all night long.
Cut to the wind blowing in at 50 mph.
And then it got dark.
The wind kept blowing.
We race down the stairs to stand in the wind.
Then the rain began. Flying at us at an angle. Like enemy snipers flying in to destroy a field full of baby wombats. Trust me. That analogy works.
Central Texas getting rain. It's wonderful. It's so rare that we had to stop what we were doing to watch it. Have you ever watched it rain?
It's poetic. You know it.
But the wind blowing in was much more poetic. It was like if the bag in American Beauty was tossed into a tornado. It just thrashed about as it was blown down the street at the speed of a car. Crashing into bushes, parked cars, people's faces. So it was like poetry on speed.
Could there be anything more poetic?