Thomas Doty – Storyteller
From Grouse Gap I watch a thunderstorm rumble in over Mount Shasta. Dark clouds climb the slopes, and higher yet, lighter clouds swell the sky like an ash plume. From Shasta to Pilot Rock to Devil's Peak, rain-streaked clouds curtain the Cascades.
The breeze dies as the storm approaches. The air thins. Granite glows. I hear the electric hum of the weather station on Mount Ashland a mile away. This storm is as primal as the volcanic eruptions that formed these peaks.
Now the first slant of lightning. Now the fat summer raindrops. Now Mount Shasta disappears in clouds and rain and explosions of thunder.