dear diary

The summer rains arrived today.

It sounds like a line from one of those Victorian explorers. Richard Burton, or perhaps, Hugh Clapperton, sitting on a crate in camp on the African savanna.

This morning around 4:30, my fan started a familiar on-off tango. No necromancer could have offered a more reliable omen. A thunderstorm was on the way.

And so it was. For the next hour, we were treated to one of those shows only the tropics can produce. Lightning. Thunder. And a brief cascade of rain.

There was no hope I could sleep with the storm raging. These sound and light shows are far too entertaining to waste time in bed. And there was no hope of sleeping with the fan motionless and the humidity rising in my room.

So, I slipped on a pair of sandals and stepped outside just as a bolt of lightning zagged its way across the sky. Thor must have been very pleased with himself.

The great benefit of rain here is the precipitous drop of temperature and humidity outside. Had this first storm of the year arrived during the light of day, my neighbors and I would have been dancing in the street.

The downside of these storms is that whenever it rains, we lose electricity. I suspect the infrastructure is not up to handling the Southern Baptist experience of full water immersion.

But, once the rain stops, all of the conveniences of the 21st century return. Fans. Lights. And, of course, the internet. That is why I can write to you as the last rain drops are dripping from my landscaping. Otherwise, I would be stuck with my fountain pen and diary -- just like Burton.

Summer may not start officially for another five days. But the weather is not bound by a piece of paper on the wall. With this storm, summer is here.

May we have many more. Rainstorms, that is.