Thunder Storm on the third of june

We are in the midst of a silvery thunderstorm. At dawn, the weather seemed calm, a dark June Gloom morning in Southern California. Mid-morning, the sky deepened, the winds began to bluster, cool and heavy with moisture.

The first drops were few, but big. Ploppy clear drops on the window shield. The raindrops seem reluctant to fall, yet you can feel them, weighted on your skin; there was a spattering. Then, just as the black bananas were transformed into golden muffins, the skies began to rumble. Slowly and quietly at first. Now as I type, the thunder's growl  taps at my window. 

It seems as though the trees and birds are in retreat, a lone bird is heard now and then. It is certainly not the cacophony we hear daily, when the skies are blue.

We have weather. I love weather. I love when it shifts so quickly, you can hardly believe it is happening. Should I run in for my umbrella? Lovely days filled with sunshine, when they come in great lengths of time, I think we become complacent. It takes a swift shift, when we so certainly expect one thing and then the sky begins to grumble to you! I love weather. It makes us pay attention. It makes us stop and notice it. The smell of the air, the song of the birds, the wave of the wind, we are forced to address them. Ideally, with a tip of our hat.

I leave you with one question:

Can you ever take a poor photograph of a Peony?