Hailstorm

I am driving to work after lunch. The skies are dark and threatening. I remember skies like that when we lived in the south and the ensuing tornadoes that tossed huge chunks of stuff about like toothpicks. We don't have that kind of violent weather here, thank God.

I stop at the red light at the corner of Elmgrove and Lyell. Without warning, my windshield is inundated with small white pellets pummeling the glass like beebees. They gust with the wind, pattering harder, then softer with a lulling rhythmic cadence. I am enamored. I drive slowly down Elmgrove, recalling the comforting patter of rain on a tent when our family was camping, being safe and warm and protected by the canvas while nature went on a rampage outside.

Then I remember the first hailstorm we encountered in Oklahoma. Hailstones the size of baseballs completely demolishing the metal roof of the local middle school and doing hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of damage to car roofs and hoods. Right. Nature can be feisty. Thank goodness today is just a mild demonstration that ends as suddenly as it begins. I drive on to work. If you hadn't seen the hail, you would never have known it happened.