Lupa Greenwolf writes: I grew up in Missouri, where summers are hot, dry, and punctuated by strong thunderstorms. The muggy heat isn’t so stifling as in the deep South, but you’d better pay it respect and drink your water; I learned that the hard way after getting floored by heat exhaustion in the middle of softball practice one year. Look off to the southwest: if you see a bank of dark clouds approaching over the rise, make sure the car windows are closed and you have a flashlight handy in case the power goes off.
My parents always valued the sun over the rain. My dad cursed the clouds–still does to this day. As a young child I watched my parents carefully, sure they were the purveyors of truth. So I became a sun baby, reveling in long afternoons with my skin getting browner and my hair getting so blonde it was very nearly white. I glared at the weatherman on TV any time he predicted a low pressure line would sweep away the sun and bring a hem of clouds in its wake.
I had mixed feelings about the storms, myself.
Read the rest here: http://www.patheos.com/blogs/pathsthroughtheforests/2015/08/18/ive-learned-to-love-the-rain/