There is a certain time of night after an August storm, when the world outside is dark but the sky still has a brightness to it. It looks as if it is an ember, taking time to slowly burn out and fade to blackness. The silhouettes of trees are strikingly black against the pale blue-gray of the sky, with hints of the color appearing in the gaps between the bushels of leaves. Stillness fills the damp air; the only sounds heard are crickets chirping and rain dripping from leaves. The world smells of rain, refreshingly sweet after the heat of the day. As clouds move through the pale sky, a distant rumble can be heard. Suddenly the sky is electrified, flashing bright as the pelting drops begin to fall. The storm rumbles closer, thunder booming and lightning crackling through the night. Undisturbed by the noise, people slumber on, for it is just another summer storm.