ROOTING FOR NICE WEATHER

A huge line of thunderstorms moved through last evening.  The news people (I know, I know -- Why do I keep listening to them if I suspect they are largely a collective group of morons?) mentioned all day, all afternoon, and all through the dinner hour that we were in the possible tornado zone.  Judging from the line of storms, which at its peak stretched five hundred miles in length, I decided to take the warnings seriously and battened the hatches, pretty much relegating myself to the only windowless, inside rooms: the bathroom and the small hallway outside of the bathroom. 

It wasn't a bad hour or so.  I had my headset on, listened to everything from Louis Armstrong to Zappa, rearranged the linen closet (sort of), cleaned the bathroom (needed it), played an online game of whist against the infamous cheater Techno-Bill, and sucked down an ice-cold beer.  I also kept an eye on the radar which, for my area, dwindled to bad lightning and thunder but no tornado activity.  I've been through a couple of mild tornadoes and two nasty micro-bursts.  I am not complaining, nor am I ready to move to Tornado Alley.

There were some impressive winds, though.  When I went outside this morning, someone had nicely returned my porch chair to its place, albeit folded up but no worse for wear.  Sometimes after storms like this, the damage can be localized and impressive.  But, when I went for a walk with my sister (who had kindly delivered a printer and some gardening supplies)), I was pleased to see that the tender spring blossoms had not been dislodged from ground, bushes, nor trees.

In fact, everything looked as if the storms never even happened.  No downed branches, no garbage cans or lawn chairs or patio furniture scattered around, no toppled signage.  The whole world looked just like true and perfect Spring -- except, of course, for our anti Covid masks.

Thank you, Mother Nature, for at least leaving us some semblance of normalcy and beauty in this otherwise perversely twisted reality.  Honestly, though, if I hear "This is the new normal" one more time, I just might climb into one of these lovely trees and never come down.  Until another storm, anyway.  Not, that's not symbolism; I'm serious.  I don't care for storms, and right now my bathroom is spotless and the linen closet is fairly organized, so let's just root for nice weather for a little while.