Hail Storm
It was a sunny and warm spring-like day, the kind that invites short-sleeved shirts and open windows. Then, around sunset came the Olympian rumble of thunder from adjacent valleys and, in the span 20 of minutes, dark clouds rolled across the sky precipitating night. The clouds were driven by a wind that howled around the hill, driving a faint but horizontal sprinkle of rain that compelled me to close all the windows. 
Just as I got to the windows upstairs, the clouds burst, pummeling the house and all with a torrent of hail that drummed on the tin roof like something out of the Book of Revelations. For five minutes, it was impossible to even see out the windows through the blizzard of ice, or to converse without raising one’s voice. When it was done, the ground was blanketed in white ice balls. And the cat emerged (from the crawl space beneath the house) a little perplexed.
(In the photos above, the hail is about an inch thick on the ground. The leaves, twigs and other debris on top was knocked down by the hail, as it rained down through the trees and shrubs, and blown about in the wind.)
