She the Boss

Today, Saturday, July 25th, 2009, blue skies and a gentle breeze greet us in Platteville, Wisconsin, about 70 miles Southwest of Madison, and 22 miles Northeast of Dubuque, Iowa.

Yesterday, not so much.

At about 4:30 p.m. I was reading Michael Perry's "Off Mainstreet" in my den, which I call the purple room because it is painted a hue called midnight iris, and gradually, not just the walls, but the entire room became midnight iris. I looked outside to see a massive, ominous cloud slowly descending like a giant's big, bare foot.

Instead of going to the basement as all Midwesterners are instructed to do in weather like this, I, like most people, went outside to watch.

Beyond the giant's dark gray sole, clear skies and sparks of sunlight reflected off the football stadium's scoreboard in the north, like she had chosen our neighborhood as her path and spared others. It was only moments, however, before the giant lay down on our town and belched wind, rain, and hail indiscriminately.

I've lived in the Midwest all my life and never seen hail the size of big jawbreakers pelt the landscape like this. Our dog barks wildly when someone knocks at our door, but with the hail banging on all sides of the house, he didn't know which way to turn. I opened the door to show him the ice chunks bouncing on the deck, but he backed away in fear and utter confusion: What the heck is this stuff?

After a few minutes, the hail piled up, and the ground in my flower beds was white as the fleece on Mary's little lamb. We are well accustomed to white ground in the Midwest---but not in July.

The hail ceased, but the winds and rain beat on for another hour or so, and the result in the area was completely destroyed field crops, stripped of their leaves; shattered windows, a number of which filled Main Street sidewalks with shards of glass; downed trees and power lines; plugged up street drains and gutters which caused some flooding; and awed residents.

This morning as the sun shines and the breeze blows, I hear an orchestra of chain saws buzzing as cars of curious survivors survey the spoils. My husband and I were lucky, as we just have to clean up some small downed limbs and leaves. Otherwise, thankfully, all is intact. Including us.

As we uprighted our potted plants and surveyed the slaughter of our tomato plants, I commented how helpless we are when Nature decides to go on a rampage.

"Yup," my husband said. "She the boss."