Weather

Sometimes the sunlight filters through the plate glass windows at Target in a way that feels like church.

We stood by the window and watched the howling dark, even though this isn’t what you should do in a tornado.

As the world becomes increasingly incomprehensible, I’m learning to find pleasure in the ultramundane and routine.

"Virga" is the name for precipitation that does not reach the ground. It hangs across the desert like a torn curtain.

Each year I feel a little more vertiginous, a little more overwhelmed by the belly-flop sensation of tumbling from a great height.

Why does the wind leave us feeling so exhausted and harassed?

I had no idea there was so much weather in the desert.

Here in Las Vegas, we’re catching the faintest edge of a weather event that sounds like something from a fantasy novel.

A heat dome has settled over the Middle West, the moon was extra bright last night, and I saw a rainbow in the parking lot yesterday.

I never know how seriously to take anything anymore.

And for a moment I wonder if it will keep raining until everything is washed clean.