THUNDER AND LIGHTNING

Human reactions are very strange about certain things.

Why are we scared of thunder, when it can do nothing to hurt us?

Reaction to loud noises seems to be a built-in reaction, at least to judge from an infant's immediate screams when startled by a clamor.

But even as adults, we jump a foot and a half (at least I do) when the thunder crashes over our heads.

And it's even sillier that lightning, despite it's obvious danger, is so beautiful in form - we pour over photographs of it.

We're finally in our monsoon season here in southern Arizona, and as you have probably guessed by now, our afternoon clouds have moved in and are just beginning to drop their load on our mountains.

And I'm jumping.

And also oohing and ahhing.

IT HURTS SO GOOD

Laughter is sometimes automatic, even when extremely inappropriate response and/or to something tragic.

One of my favorite lines from the sci-fi classic "Stranger In A Strange Land" by Robert A. Heinlein is when the main character, Michael, a human raised in the Martian culture, finally comprehends laughter - we laugh because it hurts so much.

I try earnestly not to laugh when someone is made a fool, or makes a major mistake - but sometimes it is simply impossible.

It hurts too much to do anything other than laugh.

But this afternoon, I didn't simply laugh, I ROARED for a couple of minutes.

I have to separate my horses when I feed them - otherwise the mare simply allows the colt to gobble up everything.

And it becomes a bit of a dance to get the mare on one side of the fence, the colt on the other, hay on both sides but senior feed only for the mare.

Tonight, the colt burst into the corral in his usual flamboyant manner, bucking and kicking and showing off for my benefit.

And promptly slipped in the mud, went sliding on his side until he slammed against the fence.

Nothing was damaged other than his pride - but yes, I did laugh. A lot.