Ten shots of today's hailstorm

It hailed today. I was working toward writing something useful about Nabokov, when the sky unbucketed a shower of distraction upon me. At first I imagined it simply to be a heavy thunderstorm. I was not interested in looking out the window; I was concentrating on reading my book. In a short time, however, my ears led me to notice that something was going on within my room -- a popping sound, near the fireplace. I investigated the desultory and taciturn rhythm. Watery solids were falling from my chimney! Rainwater, I thought, must be clefting insecure debris from the chimney's interior, causing paint and mortar to fall. It was a heavy storm and the house was uneven. Intrigued, pounderous, distracted, I opened my terrace door and looked outside. What an unexpected scape to behold! Millions of refulgent and perfect miniature ice-globes, blanketing the road like a glittering duvet!