It's hard for me to pinpoint why I so love storms. Perhaps it is genetic for my father stayed tuned to the weather channel year-round. It could also be the effect of those millions of feel-good negative ions which are released when raindrops land.
And don't forget that rain polishes everything to a high gloss. Jon calls me a magpie because I love shiny things.
Whatever the reason, I am always buoyed by the raw drama of a storm and sorry when it is over. Even in the middle of the night, Jewell and I would get up and head for the living room for the best view of the proceedings. (No sissy, our girl would attend fireworks displays with us although she did have a habit of falling asleep, nose tucked contentedly under her tail.)
This large painting took over a year to complete. I had taken the original shot in the late afternoon of a dark fall day. While it had rained earlier, the road had dried. When I finished the canvas shortly after, I was happy with the tree canopy but not with the street itself. Over the next year a school bus came and went; cars appeared and disappeared or changed models. Still not right.
Only when I drove that same street again the following autumn did I find what I had been instinctively looking for: a dark and shiny road! Despite the pouring rain I parked the car, marched to the centre of the road and took my shot before scampering back to safety.
We once bought a very funny book which purported to be a field guide to road-kill. I suppose I should count myself lucky that Flattened Fauna doesn't have a new edition which include paintress magpieiae.