A few years back I drove out to Dead Horse Point in southeast Utah
late on a summer day. For a week it had been hot with overdevelopment
which didn't actually produce rain or even much wind. But it was
gonna do it this evening. You could smell ozone. Hell, you could
practically smell the ocean for how much water the thunderheads were
packing.

I walked to the edge and looked out over the lodge-pole fence into a
breeze that was freshening around 25kts. There were two big ravens
soaring the cliff face. That experience put all doubt behind me.

The rain was coming, and life was easy, if just for that little while.
They skidded, stalled and dropped out front. They tucked and raced
along the edge. They got high way back and zoomed through the
compression zone.

They played.

When the rain came I ran to my truck. There was so much wind that my
shocks lurched just sitting in the parking lot. I suppose the birds
left. I couldn't see them for the downpour. But I thought about a
couple hotshots kicking back in a hanger somewhere smiling and trading
"there I was" stories.