Teatime-July

Watching globules of rain bending the leaves on swelling green tomatoes, now lashing hard as stair rods, cascading and breaking, mini tempest smashing insect wings.

The slugs gurgle and giggle, their desiccation banished, sliding over blunted egg shells to eat the fruit.
Delicate herbs shiver as waves of wild spray bounce off the windows.
I'm watching the tallest tree in the vicinity as it rocks and bows,
Its boughs bucking.
I dread hearing the crack of doom that will come if the tree trunk splits- it will lay waste, rape the neighbourhood.

Out of this deluge The Rhubarb straightens and stretches as I watch, its leaves vast and dangerous but shielding the tender crown, red stalks full and bitter.

Raining so hard it makes the air thrum and the house hum
as it bounces.
In the half light, daytime night, a brief tattoo and...now the sun shines.
Smell of brimstone and vanilla comes from nowhere.
My technology stutters and fails to respond.