Clouds had been gathering all day as me and my husband made our way to Alpine, Wyoming. The eastern edge of the Palisades Reservoir was high and dry. That is where we camp every year at this time.
A group of five will come together here onto the flats to fly their Radio Controlled air craft in this wide valley. The only other travelers here are the herd of sheep patrolled by two to three Great Pyrenees dogs.
After we had set up the fifth wheel, I wrote more on my next book while my husband flew his quad helicopter. Two other couples were camped near us on this sparsely grassy piece of ground.
I had just finished my story and sat there inside watching the dark ominous clouds solidify throughout the sky. Jagged lightning flashed and rolling thunder rumbled afterward.
I saw streaks of lightning poke its dagger into the crevasse of the nearby mountains once covered in brilliant red and orange colors. So quick the bolts came. Rain was now beginning to fall, but I could see heavy downpours between the layers of pine and aspen trees.
"What's that?" I say viewing wisps of white haze rising from between the mountainous layers "Did lightning strike there? Will we have to move?" I thought.
The 'smoke' was a long ways away near the water's edge. I think we are OK for now. Later the 'smoke' dissipated into shredded clouds as it moved up the canyon of the mountain.