description of a storm

currently editing Minotaur - hopefully to publish indie-style.  we'll see.  it's a lovely job in itself, though, as i get to read something i wrote a year and a half ago, with enough distance that i can appreciate it.  case in point:  a description of a storm that i just fell in love with all over again. 
jen has taken a walk over the downs on a beautiful summer day in an attempt to clear a hangover.  falling asleep with her back against a tree, she awakens to a gathering storm.  i love storms, and am likely to do the exact things Jen does in this extract - including laughing like a loon, whooping, and shouting with the visceral joy of being in amongst it...

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When Jen woke, the day had begun to cloud over, and there was an ominous rumble in the distance. The breeze was getting stronger and gustier, and the leaves of the oak tree had gone from whispering, to an excited chatter amongst the branches above her head. She glanced around her. The shadow of a distant storm was creeping inexorably towards her. Lightning flickered in the depths of the cloud. She counted. Thunder rumbled again. It was a good five miles off, but closing fast. Better get moving. She rose to her feet stiffly, back kinked and etched with the striations of the bark she’d been leaning on for so long. She turned and laid her hand affectionately on the tree, looking it up and down for a moment. Then she turned and set off for the dark smudge on the horizon that marked the position of Harrington Hall. Walking swiftly now in the gathering gloom and wind, she was glad that her sandals had rubber soles, but unsure how much good it would do her if she was caught in the open by the storm. She was astonished to realise that her hangover seemed to have all but vanished. She took a few skipping steps to test her head. Nothing. Laughing delightedly, she took off at a run, just for the sheer joy of being hangover-free and able to move normally again. She flew across the turf on the wings of the approaching storm’s wind, which seemed to be getting stronger by the minute, her hair whipping around her head like a wild fire. She reached the top of the last rise before the hall as the rain hit her in stair rods. She was instantly soaked to the skin and absolutely exhilarated. Throwing her arms wide, she spun around and around, greeting each crash of thunder and flash of lightning with whoops and yells loosed from the very centre of her being. Eventually, she realised that the thunder and lightning were far too close together and the storm was very nearly overhead. Certainly, it was a very bad time to be dancing on top of a hill yelling like a maniac, so she turned and sprinted down the slope towards the gateway in the wall of the hall.

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