Today I managed to get caught in two different storms. After the first, I drove silently, watching the steam rising from the roadway, seeing through that mist a mix of dark green pines and fresh new summer leaves on the rest, and weaving around the branches and leaves down everywhere. It was bright--so bright, in the post-thunderstorm sun. Even the stadium, with the sun streaming down, looked attractive. Fresh and gleaming. Past it, the storm having moved into the next valley gave the bright glass and steel a dramatic dark backdrop.

The second storm was surprisingly violent. I cruised along the bypass (which, as an aside, I'm thankful for, as it gives a height in the valley--a viewpoint I never would've had otherwise). I watched lightning strike to the right of the road, and a moment later the thunderclap made me jump. I laughed at myself afterwards for startling: I knew it was coming, after all.

Intensity, both the storm and the sun, leads to joy.