Every once in a while when I’m cruising around Charleston, I get a whiff of Georgia.

This is more palpable than the random pangs I have for home and family. In fact, I’ve been able to smell South Georgia’s forest fires all week here and smother in the blown-over haze. (Yesterday morning’s run didn’t even happen; I could hardly breathe the haze+humidity was so rough, so walk I did.)

So when my co-worker did a weather check yesterday afternoon, I was pleasantly surprised to hear that we might get slapped around with a little thunderstorm. It made the after-work journey home all the more interesting:

One thing I miss madly about Georgia is the frequent southern thunderstorm. There’s nothing like the oncoming breeze of a big one – when you’re standing out in the grass and catch a whiff of the rain, and a rumble follows. Driving, you see the bright flash in the distance, and you lean more toward the windshield to get a better glimpse and predict where the next one will hit.  Continue reading →