Saturday, April 30, 2011

Storm season

After a week of real horror due to the "horrific and violent acts of nature" witnessed this week.  NPR's "The Writer's Almanac" gave a perfect poem: Mother by Ted Kooser.  Hit the link above to see or hear it.

These lines are awesome:

a storm that walked on legs of lightning,
dragging its shaggy belly over the fields.

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Close call

The other night scared me.

I chased.  Nothing spectacular, but made a bad decision.  Good squall line coming to life in the midwest.

The front passed and I believe a weak microburst hit near a recently plowed field.  First time in my life I've been blind in the field during a storm chase.  Found myself in the middle of an intersection when the dust settled enough that I could get my bearings.  Only thing I could think of was the last words of Tim Buckman, a Sheriff's deputy, said the night of Greensburg Tornado. 
"I don't know where I'm at. I can't see anything. It's too late. I'm screwed."
They found his vehicle 200 yards out in a field, smashed like a pop can.  He died a couple days later.
I was in no where near that danger, and I hate to bring up what happened to Deputy Buckman, but I found myself in the middle of a slightly busy intersection on a county road.  Blind and dumb.
It makes me rethink.  I won't give up storm chasing, but it really tones down what was a completely amateur mistake I made.
I broke the following rules:
  • I chased past dark.
  • I entered a situation I was unsure of
  • When I had a chance to turn around I didn't.
It's mistakes like these that make me go out on early season storms and try to get my mind together before it hits the fan later in the month.

Too many things going on, too many priorities, but most important . . . too many people count on me.
Time to be safer.

Father Thunder

If you are interested in what happened to Deputy Tim Buckman follow the link:

 He gave his life to spare others.