I noted that last year, Mari, that there was a totally different quality to some thunderstorms. About this time of year on the best coast.

It was almost unnatural, just how big, how booming, how loud, shaking the house, feeling the vibrations in my very body of of the intense crack and rolling boom, like artillery or bombs.

It was one of the two most terrifying thunderstorms of my life.
I was all alone and seriously ill with cellulitis for that one. No one to call.
Scary as he**._

The other was decades ago in the Black Hills of North Dakota ... Camping no less! We prayed aloud and fervently through that one!
It was the sweetest most peaceful, calm, quiet morning/day following that, with lots of folks coming together to help, assist, share dry clothing, food, etc.
My friend and I drove to town to a fave thrift store to buy warm clothing, mittens, socks, boots, hats, etc for the little kids in camp.

A good storm can bring out such an instant authentic sense of community, naturally working together for the greater good.

Or in my case last year, the frightening realization of just how alone and vulnerable we can become.
I've lost my fearlessness, I'm sorry to say.
I am no longer the intrepid younger woman I was.

They tell me out here that the NW coast doesn't get thunderstorms. Odd.