I awoke at six this morning to a tremendous flash of white light that radiated straight through the two sets of shades on the bedroom windows and made the bed look like it was sitting on the end of the runway during the finale of John Galliano’s Fashion Week show.
Well, anyway, it was bright. I didn’t hear the thunder at first, but after a couple minutes it began to rumble out of the west and roll over the house like a bag of coconuts being dragged across an oak floor in a burlap sack.
Ava didn’t wake up at the first couple bursts, but she cuddled up against Leah and began to whine a bit as the storm drew nearer.
By the time we all got out of bed and moving around, there was half an inch of ice pellets on the ground. I stood in the front room and listened to the angry little bits crash against our windows for a bit before Ava came in to find me. She wanted me to lift her up so she could see what was going on. As I held her there, our neighbor walked by with her dog, which pleased our little girl greatly.
The drive in to work wasn’t so bad. I understand we’re supposed to start getting heavy snow this afternoon, so I assume things will get progressively worse as evening falls. And here I was, thinking I wouldn’t get to use my snow shovel at all this winter.