It's August in Louisiana. Hot, with unstable air. The afternoon thunderstorm is part of our culture. It's ubiquitous. But, when I awoke this morning, pouring my first cup of coffee, and heard thunder off to the north, I thought, "What the hell?"
Sure enough, a quick look at the weather map showed a line of thunderstorms approaching from the north, looking for all the world like a cold front that we normally get in October and November. It's over my acre now, dumping copious amounts of water making the dog seek shelter. I'm glad I mowed grass yesterday.
The church has scheduled a roping clinic for tonight, and I was scheduled to cook hamburgers for the assembled twine-twirlers. I'm going to go out on a limb and say that they will cancel that event. If my backyard is any indication, the arena is a mud pit right now, and will probably not dry out by this afternoon.
Belle was looking at the extended forecast on her phone, and it looks like the rest of August will be considerably cooler and wetter than average. God works in mysterious ways, but if He wants us to have a cool, wet August, I'll take it.