Friday, April 29, 2011

HANG ONTO YOUR HAT


In town, the rain seems to drop straight down from the sky above. In the country, you can see it coming from miles away. It starts as grey smudges in the far western sky. Eventually a few drops hit the window, and within minutes sheets of rain smack into the house. Gale-force winds carry struggling birds off their intended course.

Thunderstorms and blizzards are a welcome reminder of how powerful we are not. They can rearrange one's priorities in a matter of seconds. When a huge tree in our woods snapped in half like a toothpick, its canopy dropped into our front yard. I opened the front door and faced a wall of green leaves and branches. I had a pretty good idea what I'd be doing for the next few days. Ironing was off the table. 

We’re just a little shy on tornado sirens out here, but  five years ago there were rumblings on the radio about a tornado bearing down on Iowa County. As we listened to weather reports grow more and more ominous, we realized the twister did indeed have us in its cross hairs and was just minutes away.

One thing I’ve never mastered is herding everyone into the basement. I might wrestle one dog down, but two dogs and a husband are still upstairs. Get a second dog down, the first dog shoots back up, and the husband just has to finish typing his last sentence. Miraculously get all three dogs down, one tears back up. Husband finally comes down but runs back up to fill his travel mug. Never did get everyone down there.

The sky went from blue to coal black and back to blue again, but nothing happened, so we ventured out onto the deck. Pewter-colored clouds had passed just a little north of us and were racing toward Iowa City. We dropped our jaws as we saw the storm drop ugly black funnels onto the homes of our former neighbors in town. 


Parts of Iowa City were wiped out. The storm hop-scotched through town, capriciously choosing victims. None of them were human, thank heavens, but it was forever before we could get in touch with anyone.





I am one of those people who hears storm warnings and immediately heads outside. I love the taste of agitated ions in the air. I love having to hold onto the railing to stay in York Township. Lying in the hammock on the screened porch during a rainstorm is as close to a religious experience as I care to have. 


In July 2008, a mega-cyclone removed just 2 shingles from our roof, but a mile north it relocated entire barns and huge combines from the north side of the road to the south side.There’s some comfort in the unpredictability of wild weather; its capriciousness takes a little pressure off believing you can control everything. This one had winds exceeding 100 mph; you're lucky if you can control your bodily functions when that happens.

Country storms are not for sissies


To see the Iowa City tornado:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ElhLVSEpQxA&feature=related