Weather report

Hiya again

This morning I got to work even later than usual because of a massive rain and thunderstorm. From my kitchen window I can see the north-eastern sky, which was lit up just above the horizon, with even a hint of blue in the distance. But it was so dark I had to turn the light on to see what I was doing as I was preparing my coffee -- at about 8:15 AM on this year's longest day!

It was a very muggy night, with a couple of downpours and thunder and lightning waking me at about 2 AM. The air was warm and heavy with impending rain.

For a clearer view of what might be developing, I went to my sitting-room window, which is almost at a right angle from the kitchen, and looked out towards south-south west. A low-hanging, light grey blanket of cloud was approaching very fast. I could see none of the hills and houses beyond the huge hospital complex (Inselspital) -- the sky was a uniform, dark grey. Gusts of wind were beginning to whip the crowns of the sycamore trees in my little street. A moth was being tossed about just below my window sill. It seemed to struggle desperately for shelter in the lee of the balcony next door. Somewhere from off to the north-east came a crashing noise, as of a window shutter being slammed shut. People were running for shelter, the kids in the playground opposite were screaming as the first huge raindrops hit them. For a minute it looked as though this was going to develop into a hail storm. But the massive drops caused nearly as much damage, bringing twigs and branches and seeds down everywhere.
It grew darker still. Now the wall of cloud and rain had even obscured the hospital -- it's about half a mile off as the crow flies. I could barely make out the huge green lettering on top of the fifteen-storey patient ward tower.
The deluge was impressive: massive gusts of wind whipped lashings of rain up my little street, spraying my windows -- they almost never get a drop of rain because I live on the top floor and the eaves protect them. I rushed to close my balcony door and the kitchen window.
What I saw there stopped me in my tracks: lashings of rain rushed down the roofs opposite. The amount of water was too great for the gutters to swallow so that a small stream came splashing down into the gardens below. In one of the houses opposite, one of the big flower pots outside a balcony railing on the second floor had gone crashing down, just missing the steps of the ground-floor flat leading into the garden. The people were at home -- at least they had their lights on -- but luckily none of them had ventured out just then.

Half an hour later I walked to my office, picking my way across debris, branches, twigs, seedpods that had amassed on the pavements and streets.

One of my office colleagues, who lives in one of the small villages beyond the suburbs, told me she had driven past several trees that came down across her road; and another colleague, who lives on a hilltop to the south of Berne, had to turn his car around because a fallen tree blocked his usual route.

I'm so glad to have the choice of when to start work (well, most times). So many people got soaked this morning!

As I type, at 2:45 PM, everything looks clear and lovely, with great white clouds hanging calmly in the sky, a slight breeze caressing the leafy trees, the sun lighting up the view, and temperatures down to a very pleasant temperature.

No pix today -- I was too busy watching and absorbing the sights. :)