It was a dark and stormy weekend. That meant listening for the rain to stop, scanning the skies for signs of clearing or at least enough of a respite from the rain to make a walk tolerable.
I thought I’d found the moment.
The sun had come out, making the wet sidewalks and glisten. The sky was pure blue – not a raincloud in sight. I set down my knitting and coaxed Richard off the sofa. I put on my shoes and jacket, and got Richard into his harness. We were ready.
Oh, the difference a moment makes.
Once outside, I noticed that the sky was no longer blue. Instead, it was grey and a dark cloud loomed on the distance. Right, I thought, just a short walk around the block.
We had barely descended the back steps when the hail began. I noticed the sound first, the pinging making me think it was just large drops. I raised my head from the sidewalk, where I always scan for things Richard might eat, saw large objects falling from the sky, and looked down again as we made our way to the corner. By the time we got there, the sidewalk was covered with a layer of hailstones. The walking was simultaneously crunchy and slippery.
The young man across the street hunched his shoulders and peered inside the bag he held in front of him. Baby? Pet? Lunch? Richard seemed unfazed by the sudden onslaught so we continued forward, crossing the street to the next block.
The hail abated, then ramped up again. By the time we reached the end of the block, the hail had turned to rain. By the the time we came to the next corner where we would turn for home, the sun was out again. As the hail melted, the sidewalks sparkled in the sunshine.
Once inside the house, Richard returned to the sofa, napping through the on and off again storm I listened to through the rest fo the afternoon.
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