I ran into the house last night dodging fat drops of warm rain. The thunder and lightning started as soon as I closed the door. Finally, a spring storm, not a chill winter rain.

Copper ran down to the basement even though I slipped him into a green doggie polo shirt. I’d read somewhere that any close-fitting shirt can be a “thunder shirt,” can make a creature feel safe in the storm.

But isn’t darting under a table in the basement an eminently sensible thing to do? The universal need to take cover. My own grandmother hid in the closet during storms, I’ve been told. And any feelings of coziness storms bring is directly related to how secure I feel during them.

This morning I awoke to a drenched world full of eye-popping green. Not exactly a rainbow but the next best thing.