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A big storm rolled through here last night.
I heard rolling thunder. I'm not sure what rolling thunder means, actually, but this thunder sounded sort of like bowling. It was loud, long, ominous. Getting louder each time, closer, closer. Then, suddenly it stopped.
That's when the hail started. I got up and looked out the front window. Couldn't see much in the dark, but my guess was that it was marble-sized.
This morning I read that tornadoes had been spotted. And I realized that Salado, which is oddly pronounced, rhymes with tornado.
When I arrived at work, it appeared that Mother Nature had spent the night pruning. There were green leaves, twigs and branches all over everything. Two days before graduation ceremonies. I knew the groundskeepers were going to be going crazy trying to get everything cleaned up by then. I wished I could help them, but we don't have a system for that.
Folding chairs had already been set up outside and tied together--it's very difficult to rake in an area full of connected chairs.
Later I learned that the hail there was much bigger, supposedly baseball-sized but probably kiwi-sized. It had ruined greenhouses and broken windows. Beneath every broken window I noticed on my grade run, the glass had been removed from all paths; the clean-up priorities were admirable.
Whenever I saw people cleaning up anywhere near where I was planning to go, I chose an alternate route. It was not much help, but it was all I could think of.
I heard rolling thunder. I'm not sure what rolling thunder means, actually, but this thunder sounded sort of like bowling. It was loud, long, ominous. Getting louder each time, closer, closer. Then, suddenly it stopped.
That's when the hail started. I got up and looked out the front window. Couldn't see much in the dark, but my guess was that it was marble-sized.
This morning I read that tornadoes had been spotted. And I realized that Salado, which is oddly pronounced, rhymes with tornado.
When I arrived at work, it appeared that Mother Nature had spent the night pruning. There were green leaves, twigs and branches all over everything. Two days before graduation ceremonies. I knew the groundskeepers were going to be going crazy trying to get everything cleaned up by then. I wished I could help them, but we don't have a system for that.
Folding chairs had already been set up outside and tied together--it's very difficult to rake in an area full of connected chairs.
Later I learned that the hail there was much bigger, supposedly baseball-sized but probably kiwi-sized. It had ruined greenhouses and broken windows. Beneath every broken window I noticed on my grade run, the glass had been removed from all paths; the clean-up priorities were admirable.
Whenever I saw people cleaning up anywhere near where I was planning to go, I chose an alternate route. It was not much help, but it was all I could think of.