I am feeling all warm and fuzzy at present. I got that lovely message from Samm, our Make-A-Wish girl (in case you missed it when I posted it in comments, here it is, right below Samm’s photo):
(I started writing this post last night when the weather got wild and wooly and we weren’t certain just what was going to happen. We lost electricity for several hours. It certainly wasn’t a boring Yuletide, but it didn’t lead to a restful night, either. Just getting going this afternoon. Thanks again for all your thoughts, prayers and expressions of concern.)
It is Christmas night here in Lower Alabama. Rain pouring down outside, wind battering against the windows periodically, thunder rumbling. Heavy rotation–a possible tornado– is moving toward our state capital, Montgomery. We are still under the gun here, too, under a tornado warning until 10 p.m., and a tornado watch until 4 a.m. We are watching the Doctor Who Christmas Special and switching to the Doppler Radar during the commercial breaks to check on Mother Nature’s progress, hoping our little corner of the world would be spared.
Injury (and at least one death) and destruction have already occurred to our east in parts of Texas, Louisiana and Mississippi and to our south in Mobile, where a medical center, church and commercial buildings suffered damage.
Oh, dear Doctor, we could use you to bring your sonic screwdriver and work a bit of interstellar magic. At least the really bad stuff stayed away long enough to allow us to watch your latest adventures uninterrupted by loss of electricity or satellite signal.
Nevertheless, I do have a flashlight close by. Just in case.
I have a sonic screwdriver, too, actually–only mine just lights up and makes neat sounds, more’s the pity.
It’s getting closer, the thunder, louder and rain sounding absolutely torrential. I keep hearing thumping sounds. The wind–
We lose our satellite signal. Now the electricity is flickering on and off. Well, I knew it couldn’t last forever, not in this. I hear a roaring sound and clutch the cat against me. “Do you think it sounds like a train?” I ask her as if she’s going to respond. Tornadoes often sound like trains.
And now it’s gone, the electricity that is. Boy, is it dark.
A few minutes later, I see a glimmer of light through the doorway. Benny, with his flashlight, and the handy-dandy little battery-operated LCD portable TV we found last year. We watch the radar on it. Finally Benny decides to go to bed. He does have to work tomorrow, after all.
“It looks like the worst of it is past us now,” he says. Thank goodness.
I am too wound up to go to sleep. I watch the rest of a Twilight Zone episode–how apt on this night!–and an episode of an old favorite, Perry Mason. Comfort watching on an unsettling night.
The battery light is flashing now. I shut it off. It’s now quiet. Eerily quiet.
I miss the gentle whirring sound, the hum of electricity. I can’t sleep in the absolute stillness. And so I stare at the ceiling and stroke Callie’s soft fur and wait for morning . . . it is going to be a long night.
December 26th– It’s an overcast and cold day. The winds are still howling, due to die down soon. We might even get a little sunshine before night falls. Grateful to still have roof over head and electricity once again.
Grateful to still be here.
There’s a chill in the air here and a jacket and shoes do not go amiss when you venture outside. You step out onto the balcony and drink in the morning beauty, always amazed at the ever-changing seascape before you. A couple walks slowly down the beach, pausing to watch a bird skipping across the water’s surface as it does a bit of fishing for its breakfast.
Even as I enjoy all the splendid beauty of Mother Nature on this Monday morning, I am reminded that many people are facing a difficult day that may bring more than inconvenience and frustration. This storm could wreak significant havoc on life and property. Remember you are in our thoughts and prayers. I hope these images will lift your spirits, along with the knowledge that people who may live far away from you still care.
I made this video last year after a series of deadly tornadoes took a devastating toll on Alabama and other states in what was called “April’s Fury.” I share it again now as a reminder we all need to encourage and support one another in times like this. No man (or woman) is an island . . .