Clouds and Rain

Up in Estes Park where the camp was, the scenery and weather was so beautiful. There was a thunderstorm/downpour almost every day that turned the paths into rivers and the volleyball courts into ponds. One day we had hail right after lunch that still hadn’t melted by 10 that night. My favorite part was watching the clouds descend over the tops of the mountains into our bowl-like valley from all sides right before it rained. I wrote about one afternoon like that while I was there:

Thunder echoed between the mountains just as we stepped out of the chapel. Already a gentle rain was falling. We ran for our cabins and watched the grey ceiling settle lower over our camp valley. From the porch we could see shreds of cloud pouring over the peaks on all sides. Slowly the cold fingers of the sky enclosed ranks of evergreens standing bold and tall like an army meeting an oncoming foe.

We went into the dim, quiet cabin, embraced by our pillows. Vision fluttered in and out of comprehension, whispered names vibrating us awake with their resonance. The half hour was passed with rest while outside the world was rinsed with an afternoon rain, renewed for more hours’ busy trampling.

To God be all glory.