The thunder started well before sunrise. I know because Samson the ‘Fraidy-Dog woke me.
At some point I was aware that the sky was pouring forth rain. And in my sleepy state, I breathed a prayer of thanksgiving.
As I write (after French toast from my homemade bread) at 9.43 a.m., rain is falling in a steady pour. The parched earth must be truly grateful. I know that I am.
Samson, on the other hand, is not liking the glorious thunder.