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Thunderstorm

skip.knox

toujours gai, archie
Moderator
Best place to be in a thunderstorm?
In a library!

There now and the summer thunderstorm that just rolled through brought back powerful memories of being a teenager at the branch library in Portland, deep in books, but one ear listening to the storm and stamp outside.
 

Svrtnsse

Staff
Article Team
My vote is at a pub with a fireplace and a good book (a few beers helps). Am I the only one who goes to pubs by myself to hide in a cozy place and read?
That'd be me, except I drag my laptop along and sit in a corner and write. Usually, during weekdays and early during the weekend, it's not so crowded and I get a decent amount of work done. :)
 
Best place to be in a thunderstorm?
In a library!

Libraries are a direct link to childhood for me. They were the place to escape the humid, hot PA summer days and the closest was in a deco-style building just a few blocks from the house. It had a fair amount of natural light through skylights in the domed ceiling, so when it was dark and stormy, the whole place had a moody feel.


My vote is at a pub with a fireplace and a good book (a few beers helps). Am I the only one who goes to pubs by myself to hide in a cozy place and read?

I could see that in a true, traditional pub — sadly, we have none of those around here to indulge in.


I've rarely heard booming thunder since I moved to the west coast. I miss the rolling midwest storms and the way the entire house would shake. We do get amazing wind and horizontal rains here coming right across the bay. . . but ahh, my kingdom for a good thunderstorm!
 

skip.knox

toujours gai, archie
Moderator
True, true. I used to think we got good thunderstorms here in the Rocky Mountains. I thought that right up until I was caught in a thunderstorm while camping next to the central Mississippi River. Nothing has ever matched that.
 
I lived on a farm with no library close, so the best place for me was watching from atop a round bale as it came in or up in a tree. Then inside the house with a book. Eventually.
 

skip.knox

toujours gai, archie
Moderator
Well, it was only sort of camping. I was traveling with my family. Me, my pregnant wife, and my two little boys in a Chrysler Newport (enormous car) pulling a 5x8 trailer that held all our worldly possessions, crossing the country from SLC to Amherst, Mass. so I could attend the University of Massachusetts for my PhD. We mostly camped because it was cheaper than motels. Canvas tent, hot and definitely not waterproof.

We found a KOA right down by the river. Cicadas everywhere, very warm and pleasant, really. Went to sleep. Then about 4am the storm rolled in. Massive explosions of thunder (this must have been in August, I think, or late July), lightning that lit up the whole interior of the tent, and then came a downpour. We slowly but steadily got soaked. Somewhere in there sunrise must have happened but it was still dark. Still in the pouring rain we gathered up everything, struck the tent, put sleeping bags and all wringing wet into the huge trunk, and went looking for breakfast. Stopped at some small cafe in a town that wasn't much bigger than the cafe and was filled with farmers and mechanics. In we trooped. I believe the word "bemused" was invented for the look on their faces.

Part of our family lore, now.
 

Ban

Troglodytic Trouvère
Article Team
Sat in an old lounging chair held together by a fortress of blankets and pillows, placed in the corner of a rustic wooden-beamed attic which just so happens to have a bunch of books and bottles of wine laying about. Bonus points if a fat, lazy dog is included.
 

Chessie2

Staff
Article Team
We had a pretty epic one several days ago. Being from Alaska where thunderstorms don't exist, my husband and I stared out the windows like excited little kids watching lightning bolts flash across the night sky. Flash floods, rolling thunder...it was awesome. Interestingly enough, the cats did not care one bit and slept through the whole thing.
 

skip.knox

toujours gai, archie
Moderator
Another thunderstorm memory: as a small child, I remember standing in the garage with the door up, looking out over the desert landscape of eastern Washington where the ground slides down to the Columbia River. Lightning that could fork across half the sky. It was like standing on a stage watching giants.
 
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