The heat of the past two days culminated in an impressive storm tonight. My husband and I were just returning home from our day of errands when the tornado sirens went off in town. The clouds overhead appeared almost black with sickly green tinges coloring the edges like a college freshman about to unload too much beer. We brought Booker inside and watched the path of the storm cautiously from the supposed safety of our home. The wall cloud advanced with such force that it drew my breath. Within seconds the darkness invited the wind to rearrange all objects arrogant enough to remain passive. Our deck umbrella snapped in half as I pleaded with my husband to stay inside instead of trying to save it. He listened. The rain came hard while our electricity flickered like the strobe of a lopsided disco globe. We stayed together, the three of us, transfixed by the power of nature. Perhaps it is foolish, but my intuition said this storm would spare us from serious harm.
After the worst had passed, we took Booker for a walk. Our neighbor had lost three trees, but none had caused damage to structures. The rain had pounded delicate plants, but had also quenched the soil. Branches and debris littered the road with an eerie glow, but the air was alive with freshness. My thoughts rambled as we walked and observed. How quickly nature gives and takes. This time we had been spared, and it was the best part of my day.
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