Softly illuminated by a sun that just set from my view, a fast-growing cumulonimbus took on delicious hues of an orange-vanilla Creamsicle confection, temporarily making me want to reach out and grab a cold, sweet, refreshing bite. The sky, to the eye, appeared as a great painting. A preceding, golden-hour eruption of storms in the east was a deeply rewarding way to end what long had seemed to be a “bustola” chase with little happening. Frustration turned to satisfaction, a transformation so often found as the reward for patience.
