Anyone familiar with the work of Cormac McCarthy knows that he loves weather. His dark, disturbing and poetic desciptions of the desert landscape are filled with references to thunderstorms, shifting ambient lighting and even frost and snow. Here’s one of my favourite paragraphs:
That night they rode through a region electric and wild where strange shapes of soft blue fire ran over the metal of the horses’ strappings and the wagonwheels rolled in hoops of fire and little shapes of pale blue light came to perch in the ears of the horses and in the beards of men. All night sheetlightning quaked sourceless to the west beyond the midnight thunderheads, making a bluish day of the distant desert, the mountains on the sudden skyline stark and black and livid like a land of some other order out there whose true geology was not stone but fear. The thunder moved up from the southwest and lightning lit the desert all about them, blue and barren, great clanging reaches ordered out of the absolute night like some demon kingdom summoned up or changeling land that come the day would leave them neither trace nor smoke nor ruin more than any troubling dream.
– Blood meridian