My Favorite Bowler
This morning we had a lovely rainstorm. It was just coming in when I woke, and I stayed in bed for a while to let its arrival wash over me. The light of a morning downpour is an indistinct glow. You can't really identify the point when it ceases to be dark. The brightening haze creeps in, limpid and blue. At first the thunder was unaccompanied by lightning--too far away--and I told the cats to calm down, it was just Mildred bowling up there.
From that, I conjured an image of a Paul Bunyan-sized grandma, striding across the clouds, hurling a ball spitting sparks of static which grew into lightning bursts celebrating strikes and spares. What would she be knocking down? Pins would certainly be too prosaic. Demons perhaps, toppling them back to the devil. Yes, that works. It's a whole new way to enjoy Mother Nature's elemental cannonade!