The Pathfinder is quietly idling in a pull off. Fifty feet of extension cord is running out of the driver's side window to a circle of lights, laid out among the prickly pear and sage. A thunderhead is off to the west. The sun has just set. The Rollei is on its tripod, cocked and ready. I open the shutter. After a minute, I unplug the Christmas lights, but leave the shutter open, to fill in the details. After about fifteen minutes, I close the shutter, advance the film, and plug the lights back in to the extension cord. The truck's still humming away. I repeat this shooting process, letting the open shutter absorb the ambient light left by the setting sun, and a minute or two of bright Christmas light.
I'm standing here, smelling the rain in the air. No rain here but close, real close. And a bit of ozone too. Could be lightning.
The wind picks up then quiets down, up and down, back and forth, like riding a schooner on an ocean of air.
On the third exposure, there is very little light left from the sun. This may be a half hour exposure, I think. I expose the Christmas lights, unplug them, and then have a smoke in the truck while the shutter stays open. I turn off the truck. No need to have it running with the lights unplugged. I finish my smoke, exit the truck and walk to just behind the Rollei.
And as I'm looking past a Saguaro cactus at a thunderhead to the west, lightning strikes, right in front of me, less than a mile away.
I pump both fists in the air and say a subdued 'Yes.'
I look into the viewfinder of the Rollei, and I'm guessing the lightning ignited right dead center in the frame.
For the second time, I raise my fists.
This time, the 'Yes' is louder.