Mar 21, 2005

Spring is in...

Well, Spring has spr...

Spring got here yesterday. That's all I'll say. It didn't arrive, it certainly didn't 'spring,' it just sort of wandered in, dazed like a friend on the ass-end of a three-day drunk, and sort of collapsed across your best couch prepatory to throwing up.

Okay, so maybe it wasn't quite THAT bad, but it sure wasn't the bright sunshiny Easter-Bunny-hopping-around sort of day I would have expected from Spring's Official Arrival. It was more sort of a slouch, damp and smoking a cigarette, wearing a dreary overcoat fit for lounging underneath old street lights. Wet, but not quite raining, and covered in the aftermath of a freak and let me tell you "FREAK" storm the night before, the day sort of dragged out like a poorly played violin solo.

Granted, keep in mind that I had a pretty good day all told, in spite of the outsides, but that's another story that I don't have time for. Gotta get up earlier.

The storm the night before was nuts, and freaky with a capital "F." We were getting ready for a fairly large storm that was busy erasing most of College Station, TX and surrounding areas, and the weather channels reported that there were two big ole rhomboids (or was it parallelograms?) that were inching their way across the state lines. I guess Toledo Bend is now empty. Anyway, that was due to hit at midnight, and since I'm in a fairly waterproof structure with walls thick enough that I rarely hear storms, I figured it was a pretty safe bet that I and the wife (who was still at work at this point) would sleep straight thru.

It was at this point that All Hell Broke Loose.

It went sort of like this--

  • I started hearing a light rain.
  • I started hearing the house vibrate like the inside of a snare drum
  • I stepped into the garage to see huge pieces of ice falling from the sky
  • I freaked straight out
  • I went back inside to freak out some more
  • I stopped hearing the house vibrate
  • The bottom dropped out.

(Stay tuned to this station for pictures of the hail that I tossed in the freezer that night, where it joined the Millennium Snowball. You see, around here ice is only found naturally occuring floating in a glass of tea.)

I sat there in the house waiting for rainwater to start sluicing in through gaping holes in the roof, and decided that my wait would best be used checking the computer, and Weather Bug. Shockingly enough, Rapides Parish and JUST the parish were bright orange suddenly, on a map full of green parishes.*

*side note--"Parish." In the rest of the world, small land divisions within a state's boundaries are called 'counties.' In predominantly Catholic French Louisiana they're called "parishes." End of lesson.

It literally looked like a kid had sneaked into the Doppler Weather Radar Command & Control, taken an orange Sharpie and sort of coloured in Rapides while everyone's backs were turned, then sneaked out to wreak some other havoc on someone else's county. It poured like, well, as my father used to say, "like a blind cow pissing on a flat rock," and it went on like this for long enough for me to warn the wife that driving home might not be the best idea right that instant, and to find out that my syster's husband was, in fact, trapped in a Wal-Mart parking lot in Tioga listening to that selfsame hail beating holes in their new-to-them conversion van.


Next morning I found that the storm not only had managed to shred most of my trees and shrubs but that it also managed to fling pine cones all the way across my front yard AND the house and deposit a fair number of them in the BACK yard, where there's nothing but lightning-attracting pecan trees. Pine cones. Thousands of them. I paid my daughter just the other day a nickel a piece to pick them up out of the front yard, and thankfully she gave up at 203, now she's got a veritable slot-machine winnings worth of nickels just waiting to be picked up.

So, Spring's Grand Arrival was last seen wearing torn off limbs, thousands of pine cones, billions of those yellow things that pine trees make to pour pollen into the air, bits and pieces of leaves, huge mud puddles, and an overcast to make a sultry actress look positively...springy. It never quite rained yesterday, but it sure misted a lot, and the sun never rose, apparently preferring to stay indoors with it's rays propped up on a heliograph, reading the latest Tom Clancy book. Let's hope this isn't a precursor of the rest of the season.

I hate the Weather Elves. They sure hate me.


tyger said...

You got the big hail, we got the little stuff, here and in Tioga and Shirley and Elaine tell me they got nothing in far Pineville and Alexandria.

And now it's all sun for the rest of the week. Bet the world ends on Sunday.

Don't Panic.

Irrelephant said...

Too late, I've been Panicing for years now.