One of the most exciting things about living in Tornado Alley, USA, is every spring when the tornado/severe weather sirens begin wailing, and you have to rush into the hallway, grabbing the shortwave radio (and making sure that fresh batteries are nearby), the cats (and their food … and hopefully a litter box), your cell phone, a flashlight or two, and some blankets (in case of flying glass) on the way. Usually you have about a five-minute warning before the storm is right on top of you. I never much worried about such quick preparations before Hurricane Katrina, but now the thought of losing everything–absolutely everything–seems much more like a possibility. (Thank you, George Bush, for all that you do!) In the past three weeks, the sirens have sounded twice. The last time warned of wind gusts of up to 100 mph. Listening to the news the next morning, you’d have thought that we had survived a major storm. All the Dallas news reports were broadcasting the damage all throughout north Oak Cliff. Apparently the small square where I live was the least damaged. Funny, but throughout the entire night we kept hearing screeching breaks; when we got out the next day we learned why: several trees and power lines were lying in the road right outside of the gate blocking traffic. The road remained closed for a couple of days. Walking and driving around the neighborhood, signs of devastation were everywhere. The main casualty: the lovely trees that make this section of Dallas the most beautiful and tolerable. The (vegetal) carnage was exquisite.

One of the most exciting things about living in Tornado Alley, USA, is every spring when the tornado/severe weather sirens begin wailing, and you have to rush into the hallway, grabbing the shortwave radio (and making sure that fresh batteries are nearby), the cats (and their food … and hopefully a litter box), your cell phone, a flashlight or two, and some blankets (in case of flying glass) on the way. Usually you have about a five-minute warning before the storm is right on top of you. I never much worried about such quick preparations before Hurricane Katrina, but now the thought of losing everything–absolutely everything–seems much more like a possibility. (Thank you, George Bush, for all that you do!) In the past three weeks, the sirens have sounded twice. The last time warned of wind gusts of up to 100 mph. Listening to the news the next morning, you’d have thought that we had survived a major storm. All the Dallas news reports were broadcasting the damage all throughout north Oak Cliff. Apparently the small square where I live was the least damaged. Funny, but throughout the entire night we kept hearing screeching breaks; when we got out the next day we learned why: several trees and power lines were lying in the road right outside of the gate blocking traffic. The road remained closed for a couple of days. Walking and driving around the neighborhood, signs of devastation were everywhere. The main casualty: the lovely trees that make this section of Dallas the most beautiful and tolerable. The (vegetal) carnage was exquisite.