At 3:30 am Saturday, I awoke to flashing lights and a low rumbling. Hail pelted the house with a machine-gun rat-a-tat-tat. Several possibilities ran through my mind. The police at a neighbor's house. An appliance in my home gone mad. The start of World War Three. I stood at a window and watched.
The flashes had the consistency and frequency of a strobe light at a disco, or better yet a rave. If it was lightning, why were there not corresponding rumbles of thunder? The flashes outnumbered the thunder by dozens to one. Thunderstorm didn't seem to fit. Could it lightning during a hailstorm?
A final thought came to mind. Into my head popped the famous American sermon by Johnathan Edwards, Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God. Maybe this was it. The Big One.
My husband slept through the storm. If this was the End of the World, was it better to be awake, or snooze through it all?
The lightning dwindled. The thunder faded. The hail stopped. Colorado in springtime. Just two days before, a brief freak hailstorm had shut down the city, and part of the Interstate highway.
I was glad I hadn't planted much yet. My gardening has been running behind as I try to finish final edits on Stone Cold Case. Everything in the ground was well covered. My broccoli, spinach and early tomatoes survived.
With white covering the ground in May, I needed a sign of spring. The lilacs obliged by flowering this weekend. One day I parked in the driveway, began to get out of my vehicle, and saw my bunny friend.
Bunny and I have short memories, forgetting the existence of one another until we meet in the yard. Then we generally both jump a foot off the ground before recognizing a friend, not a foe. Bunny goes about his or her business of eating the lawn while I tend to my garden.
I am hoping we have seen the end of the hail, but I know better. This week I am getting more hail cloth to cover as much of the garden as I can afford, before I do the rest of my planting. And just maybe I will re-read Mr. Edwards' sermon, just in case.
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