Kurt Hulst and I got together to chase a little lightning last Sunday, August 9.  With dewpoints in the low to mid 70s, temps in the low 90s, and CAPE around 3,000, there was plenty enough gas in the convective tank. Borderline bulk shear and unidirectional winds meant that tornadoes wouldn’t be the order du jour, but it was nice to just get out and watch some storms.

Strong thunderstorm near Lansing.

Strangely, even though Kurt and I both knew that it probably didn’t make much difference where we went, north or south–there were a lot of storms to choose from–we had a hard time choosing where we wanted to go. I guess there’s always something that lurks in the back of my head that thinks, I know there won’t be any tornadoes, but just in case, where would one be likeliest to form? It’s dumb, but it’s what goes on in my head and probably what goes on in Kurt’s too, and it tends to needlessly complicate simple choices.

Anyway, we opted to head north and wound up near Saint Johns, where we parked and let a gust front munch us with high winds, spotty but heavy rain, and infrequent lightning.

A lightning bolt strikes outside of Saint Johns, Michigan.

Evening colors tinge receding storm clouds.

Afterward, we dropped south on I-69 to Charlotte and caught another cell moving in. Kurt got at least one nice lightning shot. I didn’t get anything at that location, but I didn’t mind. The sunset was extraordinarily beautiful, with melon-colored light filtering through wandering rainshafts and turning the sky to a patchwork of clouds, some catching the sunset rays and others concealing them, like a wardrobe filled with glowing garments and gray rags.

Later that night, a second batch of storms blew through Caledonia, and these ones were most sincere. The lightning was nonstop, but the time was late, I was in bed, and I decided to forgo trying to shoot lightning from my balcony and simply lie there and enjoy the show.