When I lived in Georgetown, Texas, (about 30mins outside of Austin), we were subject to storms. It was common to have hail and tornado watches, warnings and sometimes the real deal; big, scary thunderstorms; slow-moving and swift-moving weather fronts. The big sky of Texas makes it possible to see the weather like you can’t see it when you live somewhere mountainous or filled with skycrapers.
On one typical hot day, I was driving south down the highway on my way to Austin with the air conditioner blasting and suddenly in the blink of an eye, all the glass on the inside of the car fogged up. Not just a gradual light fog but an ‘Oh-shit-I-can’t-see-anything’ sort of fogging up. I slammed on the brakes and carefully made my way over to the side of the road. When I stepped out of the car, I was stunned to feel that the temperature had dropped about 40 degrees F.
I watched as car after car on the highway had the exact same experience as me: at a certain point, everyone’s windows instantly fogged up. (It’s a wonder there weren’t any accidents as everyone slammed their brakes and pushed for their defroster buttons.)
I walked north and it wasn’t long before I stepped out from freezing cold air into the hot air. I’d discovered the line where the warm front butted up against the cold front. It was bizarre and interesting and really cool. In one step, it was either warm and muggy and in another step, it was downright cold.
On the 21st of June, the TED Blog posted some stunning photos of storm weather by Camille Seaman. They reminded me of the big sky weather that I used to love to watch when I lived in Texas.
Camille’s storm photos are un-be-lieve-able. They make me feel small and insignificant and at the same time part of something much, much bigger than the reality I choose to exist in.
You can check out the whole gallery of chasing storms with Camille Seaman on the TED Blog. Outstanding work.