Three years. I've had this blog for three years. You couldn't tell that from the total number of posts, but it's been three years as of today. I wish that I would post more often -- I used to have a better average than once a month.
The pics above were taken on our back porch last week. I think it was last week. This is a great time of the year for good summer storms. Summer storms are one of my most favorite things.
My home town suffered a pretty bad one a couple of weeks ago. Lots and lots of people were without power. A few people died, lots of property was damaged. It really was not good.
And yet I was drawn to it. I've always been drawn to storms. My bedroom when I was growing up was on the third floor of an old house in an old suburb with many trees. The view from my bed out the window was of the tops of trees as tall as our house. I loved watching the branches sway in the wind as the storm front moved in and feeling the cool breeze cut through the humidity that hung heavily in my room. As the storms blew in the leaves would get whipped around to reveal the pale greens of their veiny undersides.
Eventually, my mother would start yelling for help closing all of the window in our old house. And getting the bikes in garage. And taking the plants down off the porch ledge. If we were lucky we got to watch the sheets of rain hit the driveway and then stop as the sky turned an uneasy green from the basement windows with our latch-hook projects on our laps while we waited for the tornado warning to pass.
I have had the pleasure and exhilaration of witnessing two tornado near misses. One on David's birthday in 1996 and once while driving my trusty Metro up to Chicago on I-57. I have pictures of the latter. I drove up on an overpass to get some of them. David nearly had a heart attack when I told him. Wow, was it great. Each deserves its own story.
So my second career will be as a meteorologist. You won't find me in a smart blue suit absently pointing to a portion of a blank, green screen that I'm hoping is a cold front moving into Kankakee. No, I'll be in the front seat of a van that has is full of equipment and has been modified to be heavier to withstand tornado-force winds. I'll be examining the radar screen in the front seat while I evaluate the barometer measurements being radioed to me at regular intervals. The data will help me make the decision about which direction we need to drive to find the funnels. And I'll see the sky's green warning and the dancing leaves and figure out where to go.
