I really love weather. Storms and torrential downpour and heavy clouds and fog that covers the city, I love it all. Now don’t get me wrong, I love the sun the most. But there is something incredibly calming, magical, and cathartic about watching a storm move in from across a field and having to ditch your tent and hide from the hail in the safety of your car, or watching the fog roll in and completely obscure your view of everything familiar in a matter of minutes. I think it has something to do with the fact that it reminds me just how not in control we are, of anything, and of how insignificant we and all our little problems are, in the grand scheme of things. The storm doesn’t care if our things get soaked; the rain just comes. The fog isn’t the slightest bit impacted by me worrying about if I made the right decision or not; it just rolls right on in. And then eventually, inevitably, every time, the sun returns.