Last night, we suspected there might be a tornado.  There were thunder and lightning storms but no rain.  The wind was blowing, but the temperature was freakishly high for the middle of the night.  I hadn’t realized before the similarities between the warm up for a spring tornado and the Santa Ana winds of California.  In both cases, the wind crackles with electricity and a strange sort of pressure.  Meanwhile, the warmth of the wind caresses with sudden whips and snaps.

When I came inside from walking the dog, we turned off the computer, the television, and turned off electricity on the surge protectors.  And, then we realized we forgot to go online and check for storm warnings.  Fortunately, if I lean against the windows in the den, my cell service provides just enough bars to access the internet… 10 minutes later the Weather Channel site loads, and we determine that there may or may not be tornadoes.

At about 2 in the morning with a sudden clap of thunder matched by a sudden slamming of the wind against the house, the next big storm announced itself.  This time there was rain, and I lay in bed listening to the rain against the windows and the thunder crashing above the house.  It’s kind of funny what we use to gauge danger, or maybe it’s just me.  I kept thinking as long as there is wind, there won’t be a tornado.  So I slept with half an ear to the wind outside.

At 5 this morning, a tornado hit south of us, killing 8 people.  I have always said that earthquakes scare me more because they have no warning.  A tornado at 5 in the morning didn’t give much warning either.

One thing about being out in the country is the vulnerability that is omnipresent.  Were a tornado to hit the farm here, there’s little we can do.  My grandparents would sit in the hallway (no glass and structurally safe) wearing construction hard hats and holding their radio and flashlights.  A somewhat comical scene as described, but it has always struck me that it is one of those moments that illustrate how tiny we are, how helpless we are to the whims of Mother Nature.

Of course tornadoes aren’t the only worry down here.  When my grandfather was a child, traveling gypsies would appear from time to time often providing entertainment and always providing for the theft of a few chickens.  Theft and vandalism are not uncommon down here.  And, the cropping up of meth-lab houses has increased the criminal activity here in the rural heartland.  Several years ago, in fact many years ago  as I was in college at the time – someone broke into a family farmhouse across the road as well as my great grandmother’s house further down the road.  Several antiques were stolen along with an inflatable catamaran which I had been given from a former employer.  I have often wondered why someone would want to steal an inflatable catamaran – it wasn’t that great of a boat.  In fact, it really could only withstand use in a pool or on a small pond, neither of which offered enough wind power to make the craft viable.

Even more sinister have been the poachers who have shown up at night to fish my grandfather’s lake.  He and my grandfather noticed lights or a cigarette’s glow across the lake at their house.  I believe they called out or shined a light to the area, and the poachers disappeared.  One time the police were called and fishing equipment was found left at the scene.  The police knew the poacher and so ended his life of crime at what we fondly know as Frog Holler.  His life of crime did actually continue in Wayne County where he was eventually convicted on meth crimes and sent to prison.

Not sinister but rather odd and disturbing is the report in the paper today about a man who has been missing since January.  They have not been able to find him, but he had left a note for a friend to take over his business.  The odd and disturbing part of this, not that disappearing isn’t disturbing, is the newspaper’s report that only a few months ago the missing man had been found by police  floating in a creek wearing only his sunglasses.  I had to actually think about it to realize he wasn’t found floating face down.  So I’m not sure what this story had to do with his current disappearance, but clearly the press thought there was a connection.

My braving the cyclones will allegedly continue on Friday when a new collection of storms will arrive.  I guess spring is here.

As ever,

K. Quinn