Stormy Weather

grey white clouds
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
~ Reblog from here.
Tis the season. No, not for silver bells and angel choruses. Tis the season for tornado sirens and the grating beep of the Emergency Alert System. Spring storm season. I have to admit, it’s one of my favorites. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying tornadoes are fun and hurricanes are thrilling. But, I’m a sucker for a good thunderstorm.
On the outskirts of Baton Rouge, there’s an orange brick ranch house at the top of a t-junction in a suburban neighborhood. On one side is a garage and workshop built by the hands of my daddy. Across the back of that house, only barely missed by the 40-foot pine tree that Hurricane Andrew took down, is a concrete slab patio with a wavy aluminium awning. How it didn’t go flying in Andrew, I’ll never know, but I’m glad for that. Underneath that awning were the chairs that my daddy and I used to sit in and watch the afternoon storms you could almost set your watch by.
Steamy Louisiana air would shift and swirl, getting cooler by degrees as the sky darkened. In the distance, the deep bass of thunder would roll. Bugs would find shelter and birds would get quiet letting the thunder have its solo. Beat by beat, slow at first, then faster and more insistent, the percussion of the rain on that metal awning would pound in deafening duet with the crashing thunder. We didn’t just hear it; we felt it. It rattled our bones as the electricity in the air stood the tiny hairs on our arms up. Lightning rocketed across the sky. Wind whipped a spray of fresh mist on our faces, cool and soft. Gentle contrast to the rage of the storm above us.
Slowly, the musicians would tire and the storm would calm to a delicate patter. Then, a slow drip as the final gentle rumbles faded in a soft decrescendo in the distance. The air shifted again as the sun broke through the clouds. Bugs took flight, and birds chirped their songs once more. Steam rose from the wide blades of St. Augustine grass that glittered with the drops it cradled.
Not a word was ever said by me or my daddy. We sat together in silence letting the storm have its moment, knowing nothing we said could hold a candle to the beautiful power of the storm.
So, bring on storm season and the memories of Mother Nature’s symphony.

 

Making Fall Break Count: Photo Tour of Franklin, TN

What do you look forward to around Fall Break?

As a teacher, the first nine weeks of school can feel painfully long, especially as the preteens get antsy. This year, the weather took a turn for the cooler a tad late but just in time for Fall Break and both couldn’t be more welcome.

Making the most of the time off began with getting the house cleaned so I could actually relax instead of thinking of everything I still had to do. Because cleaning and laundry are the banes of my existence, my deal with myself was writing had to wait til the house was clean. So, break out the Clorox, I have a book to finish! Now that the kitchen is clean, all I need now is some pumpkin bread in the oven. (Don’t tell me to go get some pumpkin spice coffee. That’s just nasty.)

The next adventure began when I had an unexpected free afternoon. So, mini me and I decided to take a stroll through our beautiful old town. While my heart may always be in New Orleans, I gotta say Franklin isn’t a bad place to be in the fall. Beautiful old homes, lovely cemeteries, sweet people, delicious treats, and plenty of pumpkins. We call these outings “picture walks” because we can’t help photographing the pretty little town. Come take a picture walk with us!

Carnton Plantation and cemetery

Rest Haven and the old City Cemetery

Historic Downtown homes

Farmers market pumpkins and a sweet treat stop

Hope you enjoyed that little stroll through historic Franklin! Now, go make some fall memories of your own and share them with me!

Much love!

~ Nola

All photos by Nola Nash

Hurricane Season Storm Stories

 

Andrew
Photo Credit: NOAA

It’s that time again! Time for my monthly post on my awesome publisher’s blog! This month, with all the news about Hurricane Frances and worrying about those in her path, it got me thinking about my own storm stories. As a kid in Louisiana, I remember the eerie green sky, the stillness of the eye of the storms, and the time my dad and brother went up on the roof in the eye of one to replace shingles that were blown off before the next wall hit.

But the one that still gives me chills was the night we rode out Hurricane Andrew. Read all about it now on the Pandamoon Publishing blog here.