One night when I was still living in Hebden Bridge, I was lying in bed, trying to get to sleep. I began to notice strange, bluish-hued flashes on the ceiling. We lived in an end-terrace abutting the canal, so had windows on 3 sides. My first thought was that some miscreant had bought some non-organic dairy yoghurt or something, so the police were mounting a stake-out, but no, apparently all was well on that score.
Then I looked out over the canal. There was a solitary cloud floating serenely along, not too far above the ridge on that side of the valley. At frequent intervals - not quite constant, but not far off - it was lit from within by what I can only assume was lightning. There were no ground strikes, nor - and this is the detail that has stuck with me - was there any thunder. In fact, there was a preternatural silence.
So I watched as whatever locus geni or local deity it was inside this spectral palanquin made its stately way down the valley, and nature stilled in respect. And then, suitably awed, I went back to bed.