We went to the library last night, returning a heavy bag of books, one of which, rather sadly, went unread because of a lack of time. Dorothy Parker, I may just have to buy your complete stories!

It rained, fiercely, sheets plummeting from the sky, with the whitest brightest flashes of thunderous lightning and little bits of hail littering the rooftops like snow. A genuine Colorado storm. When we lived in Portland, we sometimes lamented the fact that we never had what we thought as REAL thunder and lightning, having grown up with claps so powerful as to rattle the bowels and stun the ears. Pittsburgh had better thunder, the kind movie makers use to replicate the perfect summer storm, which was wonderful and I loved.

The poor neighborhood turkey ran fast and furious across the frame, shaken and stirred by hail and torrents of water. There’s the view from the library I’ve told you about, one to get lost in. And the mammatus clouds, hanging wild and heavy above. Eeek, how I love this place!