I have a love-hate relationship with Spring. On the one hand, I love that everything is fresh and new and starting to bloom. On the other hand, with the arrival of Spring comes storms. I worry about a lot of things - most of them out of my control. The weather is one of those things. There is not a whole lot more (not even deep water or swimming pool drains) that panics me more than the threat of severe weather. I come by this naturally. My dad's dad was a major weather worrier and my dad has those tendencies as well. I now count myself among the third generation of Nance's to sleep in close proximity of a NOAA weather radio. (Fully equipped with an alarm to notify me when a watch or warning is issued for my county!) So imagine my anxiety last week when on Monday, local TV weathermen began forecasting a "moderate" risk for severe weather later in the week. You have to love TV journalists and their flair for the dramatic. On Monday they were already predicting a doomsday forecast with likely tornadoes on Wednesday and Thursday. While the average person may take this news with a grain of salt - since forecasts are rarely accurate; especially in Texas – I go into major storm-track mode. I’m accessing every weather radar, NWS Polygon warning and short-and-long-term forecast I can get my hands on. It truly is exhausting being me. Turns out this time, though, the weathermen were right – at least where I live. For a good half hour in the wee morning hours on Thursday Michael, Maggie, Toby (the cat) and I bunkered up in the “toilet closet” of our Master Bathroom while the warning sirens blared and the storm bore down on us. We could tell it was bad; we just were not sure how bad. Michael ventured out of the closet once to assess the situation and came quickly back with news that the tree in our back yard was split in two. Now I must admit that in my head I thought, “That probably just means that there is a limb or two broken off.” (As some husbands of former journalists also have a flair for the dramatic at times.) But when the storm passed and we emerged from the toilet closet and took a look outside we found that of the four trees we have in our backyard – we had 1 1/2 remaining. But we were safe – and that is all that really mattered. Trees can be replanted. Turns out it was a tornado that hit. Albeit and EF1 – but a tornado none the less. Maggie’s first – and hopefully last.
Here are some pics we took:
First, here is what our backyard used to look like:
This is what it looks like now:
I don't know if you can tell, but this is the same shot as the one above. Of the three big trees that were once there. This is what we have left.
This is the big tree that is in the first picture - but now it's in half. (Turns out Michael was not kidding.)
Here are a few pics of our grown-up Mags ready to go to church. In case you are concerned - we did put some socks on her before we left!
I love the look on her face in this picture:
