Dominican thunder is the real thing: no cracks or sharp claps, but thick, sonourous and roiling as it travels with purpose over the hills echoing from one ancient volcano to another, through the rain forest, and finally, in a mighty boom, climaxes over the ocean. The lightening that shows the thunder the way is equally as remarkable. Floods of flashing, blue, blinding light, illuminates even the dark undergrowth around the sugar cane and lemon grass. And the rain comes splashing down in falls and finds its way under every door and louvre.
It has been thunder and lightening and raining all night and all day. At day break I opened the door and looked toward the mountain as I usually do, and they weren't there, only blue grey mist. The giawan banana tree has fallen, heavy with a huge bunch of long, thin fruit that mark this variety.
They tell me that the sun will not 'open its eyes' until the thunder stops later in the afternoon. Meanwhile it is reminding us of its presence as it can be heard grumbling in the distance as it makes its rounds of the island. The fishermen are worrying about their boats filling with water. They are anxious to go to sea. The fish will be schooling around the debris brought to the sea by the rain filled rushing rivers.
Suddenly the sky clears, clouds lift, the sun opens its eyes. It is still raining. "Jumbie is getting married", they say when this happens. And just as suddenly the thunder rolls and it is dark again.
1 comment:
Sounds fabulous. We are a "weather" loving family, the more dramatic the better! Our thunder is better here than when we lived closer to the downtown core, but rarely as exciting as what you're describing!
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