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The trees on the hills looked different then, seeming to stand
out in sharper focus, in cleaner profile. It was the magical
paintbrush of a gentle sun brushing the front of them, against an
ominous, creeping black background. And the blackness grew higher
yet, until the western sky was a massive wall of black and swirling
gray.
People stood outside and looked, and tried to find a weather
report on the radio, and called in the children from play, and made
sure the windows were rolled up in the cars, and let the dogs come
in. In the fields, the cattle and horses trotted around, snorting
softly as the dark sky swallowed our world.
And then it came, gently at first as a reminder to get in the
house; then the wind brought buckets of rain, drenching the deep
grass and slashing at our homes. Cars in town slowed to a crawl
under the onslaught. People parked and then dashed to the nearest
building, wondering as they did, just what was so important that
they had to be out this afternoon.
We flinched with every flash of lightning, every smashing
thunder. In the cafés, patrons looked out at the parking lots now
turned into waterfalls and nodded as though in wisdom.
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column] |
"Think it'll rain?"
"If it don't, it'll miss a good chance."
We listened for something else, too, hoping it wouldn't come. As
the storm shut us down to tiny worlds inside, we kept one ear cocked
for the tornado siren. Nothing. Good.
The storm lasted for two rinses down at the Curl Up 'N Dye beauty
parlor, through a light trim at Kelley's Barber Shop and half a
chicken-fried steak at the Mule Barn truck stop. Then it was over
except for the gutters running like trout streams, the new sun
contrasting with the blackness of the rest of the sky, and the
dripping of our world.
We won't have to water the lawn today.
[Text from file received from Slim Randles]
Sponsored by:
www.pearsonranch.com.
Farm-direct, delicious California navel and Valencia oranges.
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