Tis the Season...

For Tornadoes! Hurricane season ends with the last of November in the Deep South of the US...Hopefully! However, with the end of hurricane season comes the beginning of tornado season. With extreme differences in temperatures on each side of incoming cold fronts, the weather here can get pretty drastic. Fifty-five years ago, my home town was destroyed by a tornado on December 5, 1953. This is exactly what it looked like the next morning when I saw it.

Even though I was only seven years old, I still remember the green/orange sky of that evening... green from the tornedo, and orange from the fires. I have an older brother today, only because of a last minute decision by his group of rowdy friends to see a Roy Rogers movie (more manly, I guess) rather than that yucky "Botony Bay" showing at the other movie theater. The terror for me was that I didn't know if I still had a brother after the "little storm" downtown. My home town has never completely recovered. What had been a remarkably attractive and vibrant downtown was turned into a pile of rubble. Today, although once again attractive, as you can see, it still struggles to regain its former life spirit. I am very proud of those who have worked so hard to achieve the progress that has been made.

Last night, our annular tornadoes once again began their passes over us. Thank goodness, for as far as I know, there were no injuries. I will admit to being a little tense, though. After all, I am stormophobic. This morning when the great Pasha Zackery and I went outside, I found that all of my work creating proper drainage over the Summer had paid off. Although we had torrential rains, the drains held, I still have a garden, and I didn't lose any more of my hill. Yeah!

Pasha Zackery was so excited (he likes chilly weather) that he jerked his leash out of my hand and flew off to the woods to do the business that little black Poodles do early each morning. I had just finished cleaning the last drain when he ran back past me, leash flying in the wind behind him. He has been known to gleefully... and quite rapidly, travel for great distances with no regard to demands for his return. When I shouted "Zack, wait!" and he actually turned around and came back, you can only imagine my amazement. Is it possible? Could it be... that he is actually growing up into... heaven forbid... a responsible adult Poodle? I haven't throttled him yet, so perhaps there is still hope.

Nah. Not possible. Forget it. He just snarled at MaxieCat when she tried to crawl into my lap. She simply doesn't understand. She, a civilized lady cat, is willing to share my lap with the computer, and she's willing that he have my shoulders, so what is his problem? Oh, well! They'll work out their territories over the next few hours. I have a manuscript to work on.

Happy reading and writing, and give thanks for your blessings,

Frances

Writing Science Fiction Romance

Real Love in a Real Future