Bags of Gold
Several closeby supercells and a short squall line had merged into a rainy mess, with an "anchor storm" far down on the southern end and out of reach. [The backsheared anvil and overshooting top from that storm is at distant lower right in this plate.] When the active intercept was done, we had two options: give up and head to Lubbock for dinner and lodging, or go west of the slop first for a scenic sunset. The reward waiting behind that western door was hundreds of bags of gold, treasures not in the form of metal but instead cloud. Yes, overhead glowed visual splendor, fields of mammatus spanning horizons; but there was more. Distant thunder rumbled while I inhaled the uncommonly clean aroma of a desperately thirsty Texas-New Mexico borderland, newly washed by that same stormy sky. With eyes closed (but not for long!) the cool and moist breeze felt fresh as a waterfall. It was a sensory immersion, full and good, peace spawned by a tempest, a thirst within likewise quenched.
17 ENE Crossroads NM (13 Jun 3), looking SE