I love summer thunderstorms. What better feeling is there than to lie in bed and hear the sky rattle or shake and let raindrops loose on your roof. The flickering moments where the sky alights can be both dramatic and frightening for anyone caught in the tempest. But inside, it’s almost as soothing as the flickering light of a fireplace, only less predictable. It is the perfect setting for ghost stories, where you find refuge under your sheets, shutting the world out. Fear of the dark strikes anew, and you feel grateful for any light in the shadows, as though somehow it helps keep the storm beyond your window panes, smaller somehow. And after, the world smells fresh, washed clean, the summer heat pulled down from the air. Follows such serene silence, inviting sleep.