storms

I like storms.  Not dangerous ones but just the occasional thunderstorm that brings a few flashes of lightning but does not knock down trees or split telephone poles.  Because my mother was deathly afraid of storms, one might think I would be too.  Not the case.  The times she made us children sit on the feather bed or the times we had to make sure our feet weren't on the floor only caused me to wonder about her obsessive fear.  When she was widowed at a much younger age than I am, she headed to my house if she thought "a cloud was coming up".  I guess I didn't want to be like that and told myself the value of a storm outweighed the problems it caused.  I have sense enough to respect bad weather, but a good storm is actually quite beautiful.