The allure of lightning

July has been a memorable month for severe summer weather, and as I write this we are only halfway through!

On July 4, mother nature declared her independence. It was an experience I will not soon forget.

I watched lightning web through sky off to the northeast as I drove to Carrington that afternoon, headed for the 5 p.m. Independence Day parade. Considering the pavement on Hwy. 281 was already wet, I assumed the storm was traveling east away from town, not toward us.

The weather was relatively calm as I decorated the parade vehicle, which was a brand-new 2024 Chevy Silverado High Country loaded with all the bells and whistles I borrowed from Bessette Motors. Thanks Larry!

Then, within minutes of my arrival in the lineup, the wind picked up. I had to exit the vehicle three times to more tightly secure banners and decorations. Moments later, the sky opened up and rain came pouring down, making conditions less than ideal for a parade. My dad helped me dismantle the decorations in a downpour afterwards, and we were both drenched once we got done.

When I stopped at home to change out of my sopping wet clothes, the power went out as I was pulling dry clothes from the closet. It was pitch-black for a moment, and at first I thought the light bulb had burned out. More rain came, and the much-anticipated fireworks show in New Rockford was postponed to July 5.

Last Friday, severe weather dampened more summer celebrations, dumping rain on Esmond Days, the Central City Bash and Bowdon's 125th Celebration.

That night, my daughter and I were sitting on the patio at our home. We noted how still the air was, mindful that it was likely "the calm before the storm." Moments later, my husband called on his way home from Esmond to alert us that a storm was passing over him, headed our way.

We looked out in his direction but didn't see any concerning clouds. However, within 5 minutes of the phone call, the sky began to darken. By the time he got home, we were watching flashes of lightning that rivaled the city's fireworks display. We sat outside for at least a half an hour, fascinated by the light show in front of our eyes.

Storms on Sunday night brought flashes of lightning as bright as strobe lights piercing through the window. I was so enthralled that I stayed up way past my bedtime with both eyes on the sky.

I guess you could say my fascination with thunderstorms is nothing new.

When I was a kid, we were taught to immediately seek shelter (in the basement) every time severe weather threatened. When storms came in the middle of the night, my dad always woke us up. One particular night is burned into my long-term childhood memory: the electricity went out in a storm, and dad rushed into my room with a flashlight. He made me get out of bed and shined the flashlight into my closet so I could find my shoes.

I remember hiding under the kitchen table instead of going down to the basement, which happened to be right in front of a large picture window in our farmhouse. I didn't want to go downstairs, where I couldn't see what was happening. I also recall watching a funnel cloud rotate in the field south of our farm one summer night.

When my husband and I were dating, we'd sit on the floor in the sunroom of his farmhouse and watch the lightning dance through the clouds.

I even took a SKYWARN weather spotter class once and spent the better part of a day learning about the types of clouds to watch for and how to spot "rotation" that had the potential to develop into a tornado. Best. Class. EVER!

When our kids were little, they would come running into our bedroom when the thunder rolled or the power went out. They'd tunnel themselves between us under the covers or curl up next to one of us at the edge of the bed, if we were sleeping when the storm came.

One of our kids is still scared of the dark, and has been since they were little. There has always been a nightlight in the bedroom, and the bathroom light is left on at night so she can find her way. However, she still jumps at the chance to watch a lightning storm with me!

My husband, on the other hand, finds it hard to sleep with any kind of light on, so we sleep in a pitch-black room with the shades drawn most nights. He is willing to make an exception, of course, in order to watch thunderstorms!

Yes, lightning is fascinating, but it can also be deadly. According to the National Weather Service, there are about 25 million lightning flashes every year in the United States, and each of them is a potential killer. Although lightning fatalities have reportedly decreased during my lifetime, those flashes of light in the sky continue to be one of the top weather killers in the U.S.

Here are a few more random weather-related facts, for your entertainment:

• The sound of thunder travels about a mile every 5 seconds. Therefore, if you count the seconds between a flash of lightning and a crack of thunder and divide by 5, you get the number of miles away from you.

• The names of two of Santa Claus' reindeer – Donner and Blitzen – are derived from German words meaning thunder and lightning. I knew I always liked that jolly old fat man!

• As lightning passes through air, it can heat the air to 54,000 degrees Fahrenheit (about 5 times hotter than the surface of the sun).

• Contrary to what your rebel uncle may have told you, lightning can strike the same place more than once – especially if it's a tall and isolated object. For example, the Empire State Building is hit about 25 times per year.

• The much-feared "green sky" before a storm, often thought to be a sign of a tornado, is usually caused by sunlight refracting through heavy rain and hailstones.

• There's a growing body of research that suggests sharks can actually feel changes in barometric pressure – either through their inner ear or something called a lateral line – and this gives them a heads-up that a storm is on the way. That's it, I've finally found my spirit animal!