Huron, South Dakota, The Place Where Evil is Born
We middle latitude dwellers expect our storms to unfold in a predictable order: dark clouds approach from the west, a burst of wind, and then the rain and lightning. That’s how thunderstorms unfold in the Midwest anyways. But what if you’re flying a jet? In an airplane, you’re just as likely to approach a storm from its billowy white backside as you are to fly up on it’s eastern storm shadow.
We’re flying through South Dakota’s expansive sky, making our way from the West Coast towards Boston. Up ahead, a cold front has sparked up a line of strong thunderstorms with a 55,000 foot tall supercell anchoring its southern flank. We request a twenty degree right turn and run down a corridor of clear air, Then, from a safe distance, we watch the storm play out in reverse order. First comes the rainbow, then the torrents of rain, and last is the foreboding shadow. Someone tell Noah to hurry up on his arc. The rainbow is already on it’s way.
As we round the sun-soaked crown of cumulus, the storm’s ten-mile deep shadow comes into view. My first officer says, “Wow, that looks like the place where evil is born.”*All content created by David Raboin. Follow me on Facebook and Instagram. Order prints of the photos featured on this blog by clicking on the image or visit our website at photos4u2c.com Support this site by using one of my links to Amazon.com. Thanks!