Downpour of appropriate quantities on hill in Aries (9)*
It is just past four in the afternoon, but an eldritch darkness has descended. The light reminds me of eclipses. The storm is building up nicely, I think. As more practical people in the house rush about closing windows, I stand at my bedroom window, holding it open.
The gusts of wind turn into a steady gale and the storm starts in earnest. This one believes in dramatic entrances, there is lightning and a simultaneous thunderclap to announce arrival.
The rain pours down driven in sheets by the gale, darkening the street below further and I see it bouncing off the parapet of the house next-door. I track the gusts of wind tree by tree. The Rain Tree at the edge flings its branches to one side and bows over, the Copper Pod follows suit; the palms in my neighbour's garden join and the Acacia at the edge of my vision. By the time I turn back to the Rain Tree, the branches are waving wildly in another direction.
A particularly strong gust proves too much and my window bangs shut. I capitulate and move to the French doors. Across the street at the lake, the Banyan at the edge is lowering in the rain, some branches dipping into the lake with the gusts. The Gulmohur and the young Rain Tree to my right are twining their branches and parting. The trees shed their coats of dust and the many greens are now discernible.
A mynah among the shrubs in the balcony cocks a beady eye at me. I pretend not to notice. It is not convinced, gives an alarm call and flutters away, but only up to the farthest corner, though. It has no intention of seeking other shelter, and it knows me by sight anyway.
I open the French doors enough to stand between the lashing rain and the close warmth of the room. The contrast between cold gusts of rain and warm swirls of indoor air is strangely pleasurable. I think of Maxwell's Demon. Am I one now, I muse.
There is a large black ant scurrying on the balcony floor. Emmet, six-footer, social worker, I think distractedly. I think I solved a clue, but the storm is too gripping to go fill in the solution. Time passes, and the gale loses strength. The rain tapers off to sullen drizzle. There is lightning and I count the seconds to judge distance. The storm is moving away. It is still overcast so it will rain elsewhere, I conclude, not begrudging other parts of the city this respite and benison.
I look to see if there is a lightening of clouds in the east. I check the time and sigh. Too late and wrong angle to hope for a rainbow. Well, one can't have everything. Maybe the storm will return later.