I’m used to slow moving weather catastrophes. The large, lumbering kind that you can see coming for days at a time. The kind you go out and buy milk and bread for. The type where you glance out the window, looking for the first snowflake or raindrop, and then return to business as usual. Where the weathermen put on sweaters and talk about inches of predicted precipitation, in between sips of coffee and graphics of isobar charts.
That was Maine.
Here in Georgia, the storms are tornados and the warning comes in as little as 8 minutes, as those in the Georgia Dome Friday night will attest. Or Saturday in Madison County, about ten minutes. We stayed glued to the tv all day, watching the progression of tornado watches change to warnings and the actual storms traverse the northern portion of the state, one after another. Many of them, thankfully, scooted below Madison County or north of us, but a few did hit here. At one point the tv guy said that there was circular motion at Transco, 3 miles away. They can go right down to the street level and so when he said that and we looked out and saw the sky darkened and hail hitting the metal roof, we said, well, let’s go. We went into the closet, & thought, ‘OK, this is it.’
Photos: which would you prefer, the backyard with tree house in snow, or the doom over Atlanta?
I cannot say I am a fan of the tornado as natural catastrophes go. You can’t see them coming and they dodge and weave. Blizzards and hurricanes lumber in a line that is well-tracked and they gear up slowly. Tornados are wiry, snaky little buggers and all I can say is, I can’t wait for tornado season to be over.