This afternoon a tornado touched down about eight miles south of here, cutting a swath of destruction a quarter-mile wide. Two people died. Many homes were destroyed.
While this was happening, I was driving to H&R Block (it's that time of year) and listening to the weather reports on the radio. At some point while I was on Central Pike in either Lebanon or Mt. Juliet, I saw a wide, dark funnel descending from the clouds. It was too far away to judge motion--it just appeared to be still--and it never swooped down close to the ground, but it definitely held my respectful attention.
Unlike the treacherous blizzards in New England, the tornadoes down here hit harder and faster, and they play for keeps. By reminding me of my mortality (not to mention my insignificance), Tennessee weather certainly helps me to appreciate each moment as it comes. The rich emerald greens of spring, the profusion of flowers on area redbud trees, and the antics of young animals become all the sweeter for observers.
I'm thinking, if a kid is born tonight (Jennifer is close to delivery) perhaps he or she should be named Storm despite the wonderful suggestions I've received from readers to date.
Tonight I'm thankful for my life, health, home and family; for the roof over our heads and the beautiful countryside surrounding us; for good friends near and far; and for the multitude of natural wonders I get to experience every day now that we're here on the farm.Further, I wish my storm-ravaged neighbors fair passage through the chaos of their present circumstances. And, oh yes, I'm thankful for the presence of the new tax consultant in my life.
Tonight I believe we're all very glad just to be here on Earth, alive and well.
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