Although appearing dramatic at times:
it doesn't seem to coincide with the correct day of the week a la Sandy's Saturday Sky.
I live in the Pacific Northwest, with its long stretches of greeny grey mizzle; mist, fog and drizzle, with sporadic sunbreaks. We do get more than our fair share of rainbows, but generally the climate doesn't fit with my sky watching inclinations. In BC we average five thunderstorm days per year.
When I lived
in Omaha, where the average was 50 per year, my younger and far less wise self, upon hearing the tornado
sirens, would head right up to the roof of my apartment building, camera
and 200mm lens in hand. I frequently dreamt at night of photographing a
tornado. Thankfully my dream never came true.
This weekend however, our sky put on quite the show, changing colour every half hour, illuminated with three kinds of lightning. I've heard many refer to it as the storm of their lifetime. Right outside my window through the pouring rain – yellow, orange, pink and blue – it was better than any fireworks:
Oh, if I could knit the colours of that sky!
The next morning our sky was still noisy but blue. I could hear a helicopter outside our bedroom window while feeling the wind of its rotors. I thought it was a rescue on the mountain behind us, a regular summer weekend event. A lost hiker or a hang glider who tempted fate, like these before yesterday's storm, riding wild currents, serenaded by thunder:
It was the RCMP chopper, delivering power poles and installation supplies for the local hydro lines:
You can't see it in the photo taken with my little camera, but there were three bald eagles soaring above the helicopter, undisturbed by the noise and change in air currents.
My sky, it's not too bad.
Life's a Stitch 
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