She's a bitch.
A force to be reckoned with.
Saturday night we endured a storm that wreaked some havoc in our world. It was already dark when it started to rain, so we didn't know what, if anything at all, we were in for. It wasn't long before the wind picked up, and temperature dropped 20 degrees. The atmosphere had been thick all evening, your typical Midwest August night. Lightening danced on the horizon, and the thunder eventually chimed in. Within minutes, the hail started.
Oh, the hail. My lily bed, above, had a blanket of iced-over hail 12 hours later, on a 90* morning. We live in a new development, so there are no such things as mature trees here yet. Our little Maples and Willows and Crabapples took a beating house by house. There were actually leaves blown about and clinging to garages, driveways, and porches.
I let the Beagle out the next morning, and that is when I noticed the damage. The deck was littered with broken glass from our light fixtures, smashed by hail, and fragments of shingles splayed across the cedar floor. I hadn't expected that. Then, I bravely face my garden.
And I cried.
Tomatoes, too green yet to be picked, took it worst. Cucumbers, squash, and zucchini, all pock-marked.
The seven pumpkins the lil' dude is so proud of, damaged.
This particular storm began its run in the northwestern corner of the state- where it was classified as a tornado. Storm chaser footage on the news was pretty impressive, and terrifying. By the time it reached us, it was only wind and hail.
My garden- our garden was just things, things that can be replaced at the local farmers market, or next season. It took me awhile to remember that. The minor cleaning we did in our yard compares to nothing other families were faced with over the weekend- imagine scouring the rubble for your wedding albums, or pets.
I gathered the vegetables that were salvageable, and the lil' dude and I made an impromptu batch of zucchini oatmeal muffins together- thankful for one last harvest.