It´s raining as if all the springs of heaven suddenly overflowed at the same time, torrential, with no wind driving this rain. It is the sound of a waterfall, millions of drops hitting the ground, trees and houses, all the drops joining to make one great enduring roar. It´s a downpour.
The sky is light gray, not black at all. I remember skies and rains like this when I lived in the Florida Panhandle. The sky would open and it just poured. ”The bottom fell out,” the people would say afterwards.
There´s no lightning and just an occasional rumble from the sky. The bottom has been falling out for about forty-five minutes.
I´m sitting in Monteverde Inn at this public computer in a room with huge picture windows on three sides. I´m the only tourist here and the family that runs the place is down the side of the mountain in their little cottage about a block away. Eventually, I´ll make a run for my room which is about a hundred yards dash to the West.
This immense amount of water is flowing down the mountain into streams which are now rivers, and rivers which are now overflowing and moving fast and out to the Pacific an hour away.
My serene vacation gives way to this storm and reminds me that soon I will leave the mountain quiet.
Storms are a part of life, too. I´m even starting to like this one.