The Art of Calm

This kind of comes near the beginning of one of the final parts of the book. Steve has moved back to his hometown (Kinney, GA) and is just beginning to really feel comfortable in his own skin. He has Long Q-T Syndrome and only came back to Kinney after he suffered a major heart attack - the effect of an insane schedule and killing stress on a Long Q-T patient. My main concern here is how the description is. Imagery and descriptions are not my strongsuit, so please let me know how this is and how I might be able to improve it.

         Late Saturday morning, Steve found himself with nothing to do. It was threatening rain, so he couldn't go hiking. He was bored with reading. Keith was busy making preparations for the Barn Jam, and Marty was up to his elbows in sawdust working on his Blue Ridge contract. Steve sighed and flipped off the TV just because he was sick of looking at it. He heard a rumbling of thunder through his open back door, and got up to investigate the status of the storm that was slowly easing down the ridge.
         Steve picked up a peppermint from the open bag on his kitchen table and popped it into his mouth as he stepped to the edge of his back porch. He leaned against a rough-hewn post and surveyed the scene before him. The sky was almost black toward Blue Ridge, but from the east, the sun gilded the huge bank of thunderheads to an eerie shade of dirty yellow. It was going to be a big one.
         A strong wind rushed from Wind Herder Hill and hit Steve square in the face. He closed his eyes and inhaled the smell of pine, honeysuckle, and coming rain: a fragrance that always made him think of Lynn. She stayed on the mountain so much and was outside so often that the perfume of the mountain had fused with her skin.
         He crunched his peppermint to nothing as he recalled what Marcus' sister Megan had told him. Marcus was browsing the jewelry stores. "He's thinking pretty hard on puttin' a ring on Miss Lynn's finger," Megan had said. Steve had neglected to tell his brothers the details of this encounter because any time he thought about it, he got an overwhelming urge to chug a keg of Killians. He shouldn't be surprised by this news. But he was disappointed in some deep region of himself. Marcus was a great guy, and he treated Lynn well and loved her, but Steve just didn't see what she saw in him. They were awkward together. Marcus seemed to want to shield her from everything except himself. The whole relationship just seemed a bit bland and almost arranged. Steve decided he was probably just looking for something to be wrong. He couldn't deny a tiny feeling of possession towards her ever since he saw her at Selu Falls his first week home. When she kissed him and flat knocked the wind out of him with it. Ever since then, something rushed through his blood every time he took a moment to detect that pine / honeysuckle / fresh mountain water essence on the air. He couldn't help feeling sorry for losing his chance with her so many years ago when he knew how she felt about him. He never could figure out why he never acted on it - even then. Self-inflicted blindness is the cruelest of curses, Steve mused. Poor Oedipus. But he wouldn't kill Marcus, and Lynn certainly wasn't Steve's mother.
         Steve looked over the hill toward Lynn's house. He wondered if Marcus was there now. He'd love to see her. Just talk to her for a minute. Walking over to say a quick hello certainly wouldn't hurt. Even if she wasn't home or if he only stayed a few minutes, the walk would do him some good. He looked up at the dark bank of approaching clouds again. The imbalance caused by the storm had stained the air yellow, and the sun had finally been blocked from view, but the storm itself was a good ways yet. He could make it back before it hit. Steve went inside and put some shoes on, and within a minute, the back door was closed and he was headed up Wind Herder Hill.
         He took his sweet time and enjoyed the extra electricity in the air. It was probably only in his head, but since he'd been outfitted with with his miniature defibrillator, Steve sometimes felt electricity and lightening seeking him out. Imaginary though the notion may be, it made him feel more alive. Steve liked the thought and pulled his pen and memo pad out of his back pocket to write it down for use in some column or some something - or just to remind himself how lucky he was to be alive.
         Steve was so engrossed in his wandering thoughts, he didn't realize how quickly he had ended up in view of Lynn's back porch. He was walking a little bit crooked as he wrote in his memo pad. The coulds that filled the valley had darkened behind him. His impressive figure against the dark sky stood out in crisp clarity - like a brightly colored sticker stuck on a black piece of paper. He looked so in focus compared to everything around him that Lynn couldn't help but stare and feel a profound relief that he was there. "My, my, that man," she mused with feminine appreciation. A stiff breeze rushed into his face, and sent his chin-length hair flying. It reavealed the white streak she wished he wouldn't try so hard to conceal. It gave him character, spoke of his strength. She smiled for the first time in 24 hours.

Please let me know what you think of this description. And don't hesitate to point other things out as well. If y'all like this, I may start putting a chapter at a time up here to see what you think.