Thunderstorms – Day 892

Thunderstorms Approach – Photo: L. Weikel

Thunderstorms

What a powerful line of thunderstorms came through our area early this afternoon. To be honest, I thought I was ahead of the game. I persuaded Karl to take our usual walk earlier today, knowing that we were supposed to get some wild weather and that storms would be ushering in some substantially chillier temperatures. I don’t know about you, but once the warmer weather sets in, I’m no longer as hardy a wanderer. If I can walk without freezing my behind off, I’m all for it.

It’s for this reason Karl and I jauntily ventured out on a walkabout just after noon. I thought we had a window of about 90 minutes or so to get our longer walk in before the cold front hit.

I was mistaken.

We were just past the Hounds of the Baskervilles when my phone issued its satellite-sound that tells me a weather alert has been sent. A line of thunderstorms was approaching our area, it said, and the front was traveling at a speed of 40 m.p.h. Scanning the horizon to our west, I could see perhaps some slightly grayer clouds, but nothing remarkable. I checked the ‘fine print’ of the warning: all of the towns mentioned as being in the storm’s path were substantially west and north of us.

“Let’s keep going,” I said. “I think we’ll be ok.”

I swear, as soon as those words came out of my mouth, the wind shifted. Not only was it palpable, it was audible as well. The trees alongside the road started whispering. There was a swirling sensation above us, a stirring-things-up sort of vibe.

 

 

About Face

Standing in the middle of the road, we were conflicted. We knew we didn’t want to risk getting drenched. And even more, we didn’t want to get caught in lightning.

“Ya think a two is do-able?” Karl asked. We again peered at the western horizon. It still didn’t look particularly threatening, and I pointed out that the warning didn’t include any towns near us.

“Better to be safe than sorry,” I sighed. “Let’s do a two now; and if the storms pass soon enough, maybe we can get another walk in later.”

And so we did an about face and walked back up the road about half a mile to our other route. Spartacus particularly enjoyed our decision to retrace our steps because it gave him a second chance in one day to exchange smack talk with The Hounds.

But in the short time it took us to walk the half mile back and then a half mile along the other road, dark, almost bluish-gray clouds were billowing toward us. Our decision to turn back was definitely affirmed, and it was only a few minutes later that we wondered whether we’d even make it around the shorter route. The photo above is what we saw on the horizon. This storm was barreling toward us. The brunt of it might be threatening north and west of us, but yikes – it sure looked like we were going to get smacked by the edge of it.

 

Discretion

As my mother used to say, “discretion being the better part of valor,” we decided that this rapidly moving front was nothing to mess with. We turned around yet again. By the time we got back to the house, thunder was rumbling in the distance and the wind was starting to descend from the tops of the tallest trees and starting to rustle the middle range.

Being the storm junkie that I am, I sat on the porch and watched it come in. The wind chimes were losing their minds. Looking northwest from our porch, the clouds appeared to form profiles as they rode their breath across the sky, not unlike classic images of the North Wind, only these two didn’t puff their cheeks.

Worse, though, were the petals. Oooh, so many petals, mostly from the cherry trees, filled the air like a blizzard. But then, in the midst of all the petals, pellets of hail started clattering on the bird feeders and grill top, and bouncing all over the road. It was wild.

Lucky for us, we listened to the wind and heeded the threat of those slate gray and black clouds that appeared so quickly on our horizon. Within moments, the temperature plummeted and the day felt totally different.

The old – and maybe even some of the new – was swept up and away.

(T-219)