Last night around 10 our weather alarm warbled and said “Tornado Warning”. The sky had looked a little iffy earlier in the evening- piled-up cumulus and cumulonimbus clouds all around us glowing fuschia pink with dark gray bases. The air had a stagnant odor, a miasma if you will. While I was getting ready for bed a storm blew up out of nowhere with tornado in tow, heading east from Norman and on a course more or less straight for my house. I grabbed the cat, cell phone and flashlight and ran to the storm shelter (we have one in the garage floor) and climbed in. And waited. And then called my good friend and fellow blogger, TR from From The Faraway, Nearby.
Ah, spring in Oklahoma. There are different levels of alert from the weather radio. Ours is hooked up to the National Weather Service. A Severe Storm Watch means that conditions are favorable, but nothing’s happening. A Warning means it’s in progress. Likewise for the diff between a Tornado Watch and a Warning: you can go ahead and barbecue during the former and take cover during the latter. So the robot voice on the radio said, “Tornado warning for east Norman, Lake Thunderbird, Little Axe and Pink (yes, that’s the town just east of me. It even has a Pink Baptist Church), take shelter now.” That was me. Down the rabbit hole I went, struggling cat in arms.
I don’t usually call people up at that late hour, but Tim was unfazed. He lives in OKC to the north of here and was enjoying a clear, peaceful night. The storm was a solo act which mushroomed up out of nowhere, practically hovering over Norman and the east side for about an hour before moving south and east. Tim switched on the TV weather, turned up the sound, and through my phone, from my in-floor metal box, I listened to reports from the weathercasters and stormchasers. And good buddy TR added blow-by-blow accounts, running commentary, words of encouragement and even a few funny asides. Up above, the storm pounded and shook the house. I heard hail hitting the roof. From out in the kitchen the weather radio warbled non-stop. For close to an hour, until the storms moved on, he was my very own Severe Storm Information Center.
Thanks, Tim!
Drawing The Motmot 
Serious looking clouds. Wise decision to go down the rabbit-hole and wonderful to have Tim’s reassurance from a safe observation point.
The eeriness kept my attention also. The animals and me watched from the porch; a hop, skip and jump from our shelter. Though I couldn’t round up our cats in a storm if I had too.
That’s what friends are for!!!! It was great fun, more so because all those funnel clouds remained in the sky!
We worried about you, too, Mike. That circulation must have been right over your house, for, like, twenty minutes. Talk about eerie- but Tim’s right- they stayed up in the sky where they belonged!
Isn’t he a great guy?
This is exciting news but not the news we want…glad you’re OK.
Glad nothing serious came of it! Having spent my life in the relatively danger-free northeast, I can’t imagine what it’d be like living where something like a tornado or hurricane or earthquake or avalanche are just part of life. I would be a nervous wreck.
If I needed to be stuck in a basement during a storm, I can’t think of anyone I would rather have on the other end of the phone line.
I HEART TIM.
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How come two of my favorite people on the planet have to live in Tornado Alley? This is a wonderful post. And Tim’s voice on the phone would be just what I would want to get me through a tornado warning. Jeez! honey, take care.
Believe me, Tim’s the guy you want to have nearby, talking you through just about anything. Cool, calm, and funny!