Monday, May 12, 2008

Hail Hail, the Gangs All Here!

The HAIL finally came! Friday night, around 10:00 PM we finally got the Mother's Day Weekend Hail storm I had been waiting for. . .the destroyer of gardens. . .the golf ball event. . .it always happens. I was beginning to think the forecasting and my lopsided belief in it had been wrong. But then we cruised in to the weekend. Everything was looking good and splat! We got word on the evening news that a major storm was headed towards Transylvania County. It started to become more ominous outside around 9:45. MK headed outside to move the horses from the upper pasture to the barn just in case. She asked for help moving them. I finally consented to move my rump off the couch and help. We got outside and bam! The lightning and thunder and rain came. Denver and Tina, in the upper pasture, got scared and ran away from us--knowing for sure that we were going to stick them in the barn.

MK was persistent and insisted on chasing them around the pasture. I said "let em take their chances with the lightnin. . .I ain't gettin hit for no stubbern horses". MK caught Tina and Denver followed in her wake. We were leading them to the barn and in to their stalls, just locking their stall gates when it started. Hail, quarter size hail this time--not golf ball--thank our lucky stars. . .I'm thinkin. . ."Cliff was right, there goes the garden".

Within seconds the noise became deafening in side the barn. Tina and Denver went crazy--moving around in circles trying to find a way out of their stalls. MK and I were certain they were going to kick their way out. In the meantime, Troubie and Sunday, who we had been trying to coax in had heard the ungodly noise from the barn roof and had run far far away to take their chances being pelted by hail and lit up with lightening strikes.

MK and I got more and more nervous--the horses were going insane and we couldn't keep them settled. We began to say "whoa whoa" at the top of our lungs. Then suddenly a microburst of wind came through the windows of the barn and it felt like everything was going to blow apart. Our adrenalin shot through the roof--we looked for places to hide feeling certain that #1 a tornado was coming and #2 the barn was about to blow in a thousand pieces.

After a couple of minutes things started to subside. We sang "Farmer in the Dell" to Denver and Tina thinking they might like that little diddy. They didn't seem to like it much. Then after a while the hail stopped and the rains calmed to a slow steady rain from the downpour it had been. We started to call, whistle and shout for Troubie and Sunday. . .all the more hopeful that they hadn't broken down the fences and run off in the storm. A caring neighbor, hearing our plight started to shine a spotlight over the pasture. No Sunday and no Troubie in sight. Finally after about 5 more minutes of this, I loaded into my car, turned on the high beams and drove slowly down the driveway. I caught sight of them near the end and they were heading for the barn.

They got to the barn when I did and we decided to give everyone a night time portion of hay. After all, they earned it. We were all terrified but lived to tell the tale. I looked to the porch of the farmhouse thinking that surely our loved ones, safely ensconced inside would wonder where we had been for 45 minutes and want to see if we had made it through alive and "how could I help/anything you all need?". Boy was I mistaken. NO one was on the porch greeting us. Hardly anyone looked up from their magazines when we walked in the house. They all carried on as if nothing had happened. We tried to tell the import of our tale. . .no one seemed to understand. . .'oh well--we made it, the horses made it and oh. . .the GARDEN made it!

1 comment:

Sue said...

Sounds like quite a traumatic event for those of you outside. Back here in Illinois, we escaped the hail but not the rain and wind. And what a wind! We've had tree limbs and trees down in several places. Irene's ready to return to Phoenix. She's decided she doesn't like spring in Illinois.