Saturday I posted a photo of an approaching storm with a caption ending in “y’all forgive me but I love a good storm” and it was a very good storm… or a very bad one depending on your perspective.
After posting that photo we journeyed to my son’s home in adjacent Van Zandt county for a fish-fry and enjoyed the show from the safety of his garage. As lightening danced and crackled over the oak trees we cracked jokes, reminisced and watched crispy fillets float to the surface in vats of boiling oil. We didn’t even mind the loss of electricity; it did not affect us — we were cooking with propane.
Little did we know only miles away lives and livelihoods were being destroyed. As we were laughing ourselves to tears, others wept in fear and sorrow.
We made our way back home [to a dark but undisturbed house] as the radio blasted warnings and tales of catastrophe; declaring several tornadoes had passed through the area(s). It turns out there were seven. Seven tornadoes.
I did not perceive the impact until power was restored several days later and I could get a visual.
It definitely causes one to reflect.
These photos were taken yesterday from [almost] the same position of the one Saturday. The same southern tree line is just above this view.
I still love a good storm but lord my heart does break for all those suffering a loss. I would appreciate it if you all would take a few seconds and send a positive thought or prayer their way.
They’ve flown south now for the winter. The last bottle of red colored sucrose hangs fermenting. The Petunia and Morning Glory have bid them farewell as the Four O’clock and Salvia prepare to sleep.
Seed and root resting in the shadow of nature’s understanding.
Oh that I might fly with you..
Until the next Equinox, buenas noches little bird.