The first few spits would spatter loudly against the window pane.
"Check the windows!" my mum would shout a second later.
We would race around the house, searching for windows with tell-tale rain already splashing against them or putting our hands up to each flyscreen to detect any drops. Western and northern windows would be shut. Southern and eastern windows usually stayed open.
I never thought about this strangeness until recently. Why not shut all the windows? This afternoon I realised why - it's stifling being shut in. Having half of them open let in the blessed breeze that the storm brought with it. Clever mum. No air conditioning back then.
The cool breeze lifted the hair on our hot necks as we watched the lightning storm flicker around the horizon from the sunroom. If the rain changed direction, we would squeal and run around the house again, closing and opening glass panes.
Tonight, I'm here at the farm house all alone. It's kind of spooky. But at least if the rain comes, I know what to do.
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