Blow, Winds

I am again waiting for thunderstorms that have not come.  I love them, because up here when the come they are not only exciting, but when they pass the humidity has been broken and the air feels fresh.  My son in Houston finds thunderstorms much less pleasant, as the humidity is the same before and after.

Lear, with The Fool in the storm

Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow!
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks!
You sulphurous and thought-executing fires,
Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts,
Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder,
Smite flat the thick rotundity o' the world!
Crack nature's moulds, an germens spill at once,
That make ingrateful man! King Lear, Act III Scene ii.